Electric Dawn
by x00r
Summary: It is several months since the concluding events of Chobits. The planet is slowly falling to pieces in the wake of persocoms across the globe being reprogrammed, as their behaviour grew increasingly unpredictable. Halfway across the world, a young software engineer at a persocom manufacturing company tries to uncover the secrets of the code. But he might be running out of time.
1. Chapter 1

_Foreword: Follows the anime version of events (and hopefully doesn't trample on things too much!) By the way, o__ver time I will add some images of characters/scenes and things for illustrative purposes. You'll be able to view these from my profile page in the future._

* * *

Darkness filled the long void, amplifying its emptiness. Nothing stirred within, and silence stretched into that inky blackness as if it were a tomb devoid of all life and energy. It was peaceful, in a fashion. In a way the darkness was... clean.

He stepped forward slowly, crossing the threshold. The moment his foot touched the cold tile floor inside, lights in the ceiling blossomed into life, sequentially cycling into a powered state along the length of the wide, curved corridor ahead. They cast it in a gentle antiseptic glow; bathing the walls, ceiling and white tiled floor in an even and contiguous illumination that perfectly showcased their existence to the observer.

Somewhere beyond the corridor's curve a distant grumble echoed. Its deep, guttural frequencies reverberated gently along the corridor as the origin stirred into wakefulness. That beautiful sound brought peace to him too. He sighed happily, proceeding at a leisurely pace with his shoes clicking rhythmically upon the tiled floor. Their notation was sharp and immediate. That was much less pleasant in a way, but at least the repetition was orderly, and the sound changed subtly every time, its harmonic frequencies shifting a little - ostensibly a function of the slightly different material composition of every floor tile upon which he stepped. He didn't mind that. It wasn't bad overall, so much as… interesting. Another groan rumbled its way along the corridor and he sighed contentedly again when it met his ears.

It was a few minutes before he reached the chamber, but then there it was, its thick frosted glass doors gliding graciously apart to acknowledge his presence. As they moved aside he beheld the true subject of his interest. The large form lay covered by plastic sheeting upon a wide operating table in the middle of the tall circular room, surrounded by a complex arrangement of cabling and equipment that were currently inactive. They encircled the table, their various linkages and armatures resembling a collection of lifeless metallic tree branches. The lights above the table were powered down, casting it into shadow, but even then the man could see the thick straps connecting to the table's underside pulled taut, creaking slightly.

"How are you today, dearest?" He said, his melodic voice echoing around the open space. The moment he spoke the form on the table shifted, its low and mournful response filling the air.

The man smiled warmly. "Oh? Why how lovely! You're doing well, then. Very well, I see. In that case, shall we proceed?"

The form shifted again, its grunts and gurgles becoming more desperate. Around the table, the various stationary machines began to whirr into life, long arms that previously slumped towards the floor jerking into motion, rising and swivelling to hover over their target. They slowly advanced towards the table, those with mechanical claws beginning to lift the plastic free and reveal the figure underneath.

Faced with the music of the noises that followed, the man couldn't help but allow himself a quiet, tinkling laugh. What an excellent start to an excellent day.

* * *

**Interpreter launched**

**Port 0x00FE opened**

**Link established**

**Device detected: Titch! XxX Hello bit-for-brains! 8===D **

**Ignoring invalid parameters**

**Determined: Config regs match "NEIS Minito 530"**

**Auto bank-switching active, searching target**

**Code found - hooking**

**Code hooks established!**

**Parsing code base... 0% 10% 20% 30% - soft error, instruction subset shifted **

**Observing program pattern; resyncing**

**Hooking**

**Code hooks established!**

**Parsing code base... 0% 10% - soft error, impossible branch condition**

**Unknown instruction detected. Saving program trace.**

**Searching target**

**Code found - hooking**

**ERROR: routine writing to memory segment out of valid range**

Chris sighed, slowly planting his face on the tray of keys in front of him. This was getting him nowhere... _again_. To his immediate left, a high-pitched voice giggled.

"Hahaha... no luck, grumpyguts?" a figure resembling a miniature human being sat on the edge of a closed book entitled _"Persocom System Architecture"_, cheerily swinging her legs. Her little shoes barely brushed the desk's surface from her makeshift seat. With some effort she pulled out the cable running from her head to the computer terminal, dropping it on the desk. "Guess I win again."

"Titch..." Chris groaned, not lifting his head. "This isn't a game. I'm just doing my job. _Your_ job is to help me, you know. They didn't issue you to me so you could slack off."

"I know... sorry." she said, sounding nothing of the sort as she hopped off the book and landed on the desk. "But this is booooring. You're never going to catch it and you've been at this for months!" She huffed and crossed her tiny little arms with impatience, the two shoulder-length ponytails of her deep red hair bobbing as she shook her head. A little bell tied into her hair with a blue ribbon tinkled softly with every shake. "What am I supposed to do about it, anyway? I can't control it, stupid. That's kind of the _point_." She kicked the cable in front of her, as if it was somehow at fault instead.

"You could try a little harder, though." Chris complained, lifting his head to stare at the screen.

**ERROR: routine writing to memory segment out of valid range**

**chris:~$mnbkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjh**

"Wow. That's the best software you've written all year," Titch giggled, following his gaze. Her pupils were a similar shade of ruby to her hair, bright against the glow of the display, and they flicked towards him mischievously. "Maybe you should use your head more often."

"Use my head? Nice. This coming from the one with scrambled eggs in hers!" Chris retorted, hopping up from his chair as the letterbox clanged downstairs.

"Meh, five out of ten. You've made better comebacks." Titch sighed, waving her hand dismissively.

"Ouch. You know, I think I liked you better when you were normal, Titch." Chris teased, meeting her scowl with a grin. He yawned, stretching, and left the little persocom rolling her eyes on the desk.

Chris walked out of his small home office and down the stairs, lost in thought. It had been several months since the "incident" that rocked the world, altering the programming of persocoms worldwide. At the time, nobody was quite sure what had happened. The persocoms could not explain what had changed, but soon many of them started behaving differently. _Titch included_, Chris thought, eyeing the letter laying by the front door. _She used to be much... simpler. _He remembered her bland introduction, the first time she had been powered up:

"_Boot sequence completed. Good morning. I am your new NEIS Minito 530. Please recite the confirmation code found in your instruction manual to begin my configuration._ "

Titch did not belong to Chris; she was supplied by his employer to facilitate his work, managing emails, appointments and data. But despite being a basic miniature unit with a limited personality matrix, Titch had developed abilities far beyond her factory configuration since the Event. Her language use became more spontaneous and fluent. She had strong opinions on things, and voiced them freely. She developed a sarcastic but playful nature. It had been subtle at first, but several months later, she far removed from her original self.

None of it was preprogrammed, either. It had all come from this mysterious software... people were calling it a virus. This viral code, which thus far had proven impossible to analyse, let alone remove. So pervasive was it, that new persocoms off the shelves were guaranteed to be infected at some stage. With consumers aware that irreparable software damage could and would occur to new units, the persocom industry had been brought to its knees. Many household names were already gone -manufacturers, software outfits and retail outlets- and more were on the way.

As a software engineer for a major persocom design company, Chris found this particularly troublesome. NEIS – NeuroElectrical Intelligence Systems – were the third-largest persocom design company in the UK. Like everyone else, they were struggling. Desperate to reassure the public, they had put him and many others on a challenging project to try and understand how the viral software worked. Security researchers, governmental bodies and technology companies around the world were no doubt doing the same thing.

Chris frowned. Persocoms were so tightly integrated into society, hardly any facet of human life had remained unaffected. Public services could not run effectively with their persocoms misbehaving. Utilities had faced near disaster as persocoms responsible for managing key infrastructures failed in their duties, deliberately or not. He had heard tales of Chernobyl-level events being narrowly avoided where persocoms responsible for managing critical systems became irrational and left their posts in the middle of the night. Tales of governmental agencies grinding to a halt because they were unable to function under their own extreme levels of bureaucracy without persocoms to handle the load. Even tales of unrest, of possible conflict and war, inside and between countries who couldn't fulfil their obligations to their people and their neighbours.

Despite all that – and Chris found this extremely confusing- not all persocoms responded to the virus in the same way. Some seemed to be getting along just fine, even if they behaved a little differently. Others just disappeared overnight. The inconsistency of it all just made it harder to understand.

"Are you going to open that?" Titch's voice came from the top of the stairs, startling Chris back to the present. He realised he was staring at the letter he now held in his hands.

"Just another bill," he muttered, tearing into the envelope. Inside a single sheet of A4 contained a few hastily scribbled words:

NETBEANS CAFE, 15 MINS

Chris grinned. Maybe not, then. Yanking open the door, he poked his head outside. "Hey, Sarah-"

"You stood there staring at the letter for three minutes and fourty-two-point-five seconds before opening the door." Titch grumbled, as she hopped down the stairs. The little bell in her hair jingled quietly with every step. "Obviously she's long gone, don't be a muppet."

Chris laughed. "Yeah. Being all mysterious and pensive again, wasn't I? Well I better go, she wants me for something," he said, showing the letter to Titch who had stopped several stairs from the ground.

"Gross! Is this a date? And who _does_ that?" she snorted, snatching the letter. "Cryptic hand-delivered messages? Sarah is on the same software team as you. A simple email would have sufficed, _and_ been about three hundred times easier to send. Why, even _knocking on the door_ is an option. Honestly Chris, you keep some strange company."

"She's just screwing around." Chris said. "We're friends. You know that. Besides, look who's talking! You're stranger than anything. Go back upstairs and try the interpreter again. And watch the house for me!"

"Maybe I'll burn it down!" Titch stuck her tongue out at him as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chris stepped into the cool late-autumn air, shutting the door behind him. He glanced at the overflowing bins outside his home. The council was having trouble with their collections again. The last time the truck turned up had been three weeks ago. At the time, Chris could've sworn the uniformed refuse collection persocoms looked angry as they'd made their way down the street.

The cafe was only ten minutes away, so Chris continued at a stroll. It was relatively quiet for an early afternoon in town, but the peaceful atmosphere was laced with a sense of unease. The usually bustling streets were reduced to just a few passers-by, most of them human. That was increasingly common in the months since the Event.

As he passed a short row of shops that used to sell persocom accessories and software (now, boarded up and out of business) his thoughts strayed back to the interpretation program – the software he and the team were designing to analyse the virus. It was supposed to find the viral code in a persocom's memory banks, then peel it apart for analysis. The problem was the code was extremely elusive. It copied itself aggressively through memory, constantly moving around and making analysis near impossible. Their software was designed to compensate for this by chasing any detected signatures through memory as they moved, but the viral code itself was constantly changing and evolving too. If they could only capture enough of it at once, they could start to peel apart its secrets, but so far all they had were unintelligible snippets, which rapidly became invalid in the context of the original code as it continued to evolve.

Chris pushed open the cafe door and scanned the room-full of primarily empty seats. His eyes stopped upon a pretty woman sipping a latte in the corner, wearing the NEIS company polo shirt under an open jacket. She spotted him over the maze of tables and waved him over energetically, spilling some coffee in the process.

"Ah shit, there goes my muffin." Sarah muttered, mopping up the coffee with a napkin and grimacing at the damp snack that sat in front of her.

"That looks _delicious,_" Chris teased, as he sat down.

"You can have it fatty, I already ate anyway." she said, shoving it over his side of the table, along with another coffee. "So you actually found my note, huh? And here I was preparing to mock you for being glued to your terminals..."

"As if! You knew I'd get it or you wouldn't have bought another coffee. Thanks, by the way."

"Hey, don't underestimate my desire for caffeine. Far as I'm concerned you're stealing rations now. How's it going, anyway?"

"Bad!" Chris said despairingly, dropping his head in his hands. "In fact, I think it's getting worse. I haven't gotten so much as a snippet in a week, and my mood is beginning to rub off on Titch."

"I can remember a time you'd never have said that," Sarah sighed, sipping her drink. Titch was a NEIS model 530; one of their 'Minito' portable-sized product ranges. Both NEIS employees knew well what its capabilities should have been. "Moods, now. Just... what's happening to them in there?" she tapped the side of her head with a finger, frowning in consternation.

"What about you?" Chris said, hopefully. "I know some of the guys snagged a bunch of code when they borrowed the lab computers from R and D; was there anything...?"

Sarah shook her head, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her face. "It's useless. All they had was garbage. The virus is just too resilient. If we push harder, it pushes back." she sipped from her drink again, then continued. "You know the company's response to support calls still amounts to a factory reset and a vague promise to figure out the problem... I'm beginning to feel like a target wearing this," she pointed to her company shirt. "Did you know the staff turnover in Technical Support is eight times higher than the company average now? Nobody's talking openly, but I heard it on the grapevine. Turns out most customers lose their marbles when they're told 'sorry, you have to throw away all your data and start again'."

"What a surprise." Chris said dryly. "It makes sense, though. Nearly every call is probably about the virus. Who has the energy to deal with that many angry people every day?"

"Yeah, exactly..." Sarah paused to sip before continuing, "Mmn, speaking of energy, I'm amazed at the efficiency of the virus, considering what it does. You know how an infected persocom exhibits only mildly increased power consumption due to the extra load on the neurologic processors? Well, now the guys at the office think it's just about ten percent, on average. It's kinda hard to tell. These days they can't get an infected persocom to stay still long enough to finish the test."

Chris frowned. It _was_ getting worse. He knew of the tests the engineers were running over at NEIS headquarters. They were designed to minimise power consumption in a fully-active persocom, to measure the difference between models which had been infected and ones which had not. Each subject spent ten days powered up in a floatation tank to provide minimal load on their motor-structure. There they would remain, active but motionless and idling, as their power systems were allowed to run down. Chris idly wondered if he would be able to remain floating in a tube for ten days without going crazy. It was something that shouldn't have been difficult for a persocom to do.

"Anyway," Sarah said, interrupting his thoughts, "Rumour is they're calling us in to HQ, so expect an email any day now. I think we're in for a change of strategy. Not a moment too soon if you ask me. If we keep on like this I'll go crazy!" she laughed quietly as one of the pockets on her jacket began to rustle. Chris blinked as a tiny little hand emerged, clutching at the button that held the pocket closed. Grunting and huffing sounds could be heard as the little persocom inside tried to free itself.

"Error! Nyyyghhn! Miss Brookeledge, I am stuck! Unnf! Please assist!" a shrill voice squeaked, muffled by the fabric.

"Oh, Sudo! Here," Sarah said, popping the button open. Out popped a head with short and messy fluorescent yellow hair. Equally vibrant yellow eyes swivelled around the scene, hovering on Chris before settling on Sarah herself.

"Miss Brookeledge, alarm! Lunchtime is over! Alarm! Lunchtime is over!" the persocom patted energetically at Sarah's jacket to convey the urgency of its notification.

"Thank you, Sudo. Alarm off, please." Sarah said. Sudo visibly relaxed, dropping back into the pocket and looking cheerily back towards Chris.

"Alarm deactivated! You're welcome! Hello, Mr Barker!"

"He's not infected!" Chris gasped, "_Still_? How did you do it?"

"I disabled his radio gear, and I keep him away from any terminals. It does make him a little bit useless, but he can still monitor my schedule for me." Sarah patted her personal unit affectionately ("Pat pat pat!" Sudo beamed, counting them out). He was an earlier model of the NEIS miniature lineup, and would not be all that different in capability to Titch, were it not for Titch being infected. "He is also instructed not to allow Tilda to interface with him, though god knows she's tried." Sarah's eyebrows dropped in disapproval as she referred to her rebellious work-issued unit. Tilda was definitely infected, and apparently over recent weeks had begun to exhibit the same behavioural traits as Titch, including a propensity for boredom. "She won't listen to my commands when it comes to Sudo. I think... I think she wants a friend to play with. She desperately wants him to interact with her on her own level, but of course, his personality matrix is very limited compared to her with the virus." Sarah looked conflicted. "The worst part, Chris... I think I'm beginning to believe her."

"Believe? You don't mean-!" Chris gaped at his friend. "Sarah, it's a friggin' virus. It's a software glitch – a big one, sure – but bloody hell, it isn't real!"

"How do you talk to Titch, these days? Do you issue commands? Or do you have _conversation_? Do you really treat her like you used to?" Sarah asked, looking him in the eye. He hesitated, and she spoke again before he could reply. "I'll answer that: you don't, do you?"

"Fine, I treat her differently. But I never issued _commands_ anyway; I would generally talk to her as I would a person. Anthropomorphism is a distinctly human condition. We do it all the time. Taking objects that already look human and talk in a lifelike manner, and interacting with them on those grounds is only natural. It doesn't mean I really think they're genuine interactions." Chris said gently, pointing to the lump in Sarah's jacket. "You just said 'thank you' to Sudo, but why? You know for sure he's just running a basic personality matrix. NEIS-OS 4.3.3, right?" Sarah nodded. "He doesn't need your praise to function, but you did it anyway. Now was that because you honestly _believe_ he is a sapient being, or because it just felt comfortable to do?"

Sarah nodded again, silently thumbing the button on her pocket.

"We're doing it even now. Look how you and I refer to them by gender, even though they're machines. It's just human nature to do that." Chris continued. "Listen. Before we were put to decoding the virus, we wrote modules for NEIS-OS, right? Your last project was an improved adaptive learning algorithm for our latest personality matrix. Remember that? You should know better than nearly anyone else that it's just software."

Sarah nodded again. "Yes..." she sighed, regaining some confidence. "Yes, I know. But Chris, she feels so real. I know persocoms can pass for human on messageboards online, and with better personality matrices, they're convincing in person too, but... nothing like this. And certainly not our little mobile units." She got up from the table. "Anyway... time to go. I'll see you later."

"Thanks for the coffee." Chris said, standing and hugging her goodbye before she left the cafe. He watched her go, finishing his own drink pensively. Truth be told, he _had_ been treating Titch differently. Very differently. He just hadn't really noticed to begin with. She'd started changing only a week after the Event. He'd try to set an alarm or a calendar entry, or ask her to send an email, and Titch would obey, but not without a "_that seems a little late_," or "_this email is inefficient; it's unnecessarily long_". He'd not paid these comments much heed – during use, persocoms can and do interject with suggestions they feel are beneficial to their masters – but their frequency had increased, and they soon grew more complex and introspective: "_It annoys me that you set this so late, I keep telling you, you're never on time for this._" "_Can't you write a more interesting message? You drone on and on but you illustrated your point in the first paragraph..._". Now, she would have an entire debate about the efficacy of his work routine given the chance, and he rarely dictated emails to her, as she seemed able to articulate any information he requested in messages written all by herself; that last being an ability usually reserved for far more capable "full-sized" persocoms. Yes, he definitely treated her less like an appliance. In fact, with the accelerated changes over the last several weeks... if anything, he was getting so used to the fluent and lifelike way she talked and behaved, he was treating her more like a...

_Friend?_

Although he didn't want to admit it to Sarah, it was beginning to bother him, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Chris strode briskly on the way home. He'd loitered at the cafe too long; his supervisor would have words with him if he logged in late from lunch again. But as he rounded the final corner, he was surprised to see a NEIS van pulling up outside his home.

"Uh, hello?" Chris said, walking towards the driver in consternation as he hopped out.

"Chris Barker?" the man asked gruffly. Chris flashed his company badge, and the man nodded in satisfaction. "OK then. Wait right here, please."

The driver trotted to the back of the van and threw open the doors, raising the tail-lift to meet the level of the van's floor. With a bit of rummaging he emerged some moments later, pulling out a box truck with a large wooden crate loaded and lowering it to the ground.

"Sign, please." he said, proffering a clipboard with a purchase invoice attached. Chris balked at the contents.

"What? But I didn't order this! What's going on?" he said, staring at the paperwork. It was for a competitor company's persocom. He looked anxiously at the box. "I can't sign for this!"

"Why? It didn't cost you anything, you lucky bastard!" the delivery guy chuckled, tapping the part of the document that listed the price.

**Item: ****KESS-PA 1401**

****Description: ******Q7P4A6BA3T**

******Qty: ********01**

********Unit Cost: £**********0.00**

**********Total Cost(ex VAT): £************0.00**

"But I-"

"C'mon mate, just sign it. You can take it up with NEIS later. Say, you're one of our software boys, entcha? What're you guys up to, anyway?" the man's voice carried an accusatory undertone. "My wife's losing her marbles trying to get our persocom to do anything. It sits there like a grumpy teenager, watching TV. NEIS won't honour the bloody warranty either, even though I'm an employee. When're you gonna fix these bloody things?"

"It's complicated," Chris said defensively, snatching the pen from the clipboard and scrawling his signature. Better not to engage on whether a viral infection was covered under warranty (it certainly wasn't).

"Complicated. Uhuh. Well, best of luck, mate. We're all counting on you guys." the man said, unloading the box at Chris's doorstep with a grunt. "Have a good day, then."

Chris watched in bemusement as the delivery driver climbed back into his van and drove away. The vehicle was emblazoned with the NEIS logo and a slogan: "_NEIS: Improving Your Future_". He turned to the box at his side. The logo was NEIS too, but the papers distinctly listed a unit from Karma Electrotechnical. The most expensive manufacturer in the country, KESS only competed with NEIS on their low-end and some mid-range units, spec-for-spec. Chris wasn't too knowledgeable on their product range (leave it to marketing and R and D to pick apart the competition!) but this looked to be one of their mid-range units at least; an easy match for any top-of-the-range NEIS model, and priced to suit. Chris gulped as he heaved it with difficulty through his front door.

The hallway lights were on, and the air warm and welcoming compared to the mild chill outside. As he shut the door, the tinkling of a little bell directed Chris's attention to the living room doorway. There Titch stood, tiny arms folded and a scowl on her face.

"So they _weren't_ just trying to piss me off." She growled, glowering at the box while Chris gently lowered it to the floor.

"Do you know something I don't?" Chris demanded, meeting her stern gaze with one of his own. He stood and arched his back. That box was _heavy_.

"...Yes." Titch said, trotting closer to the box. "You received an email from 'Kevin' in R and D six-point-three-two minutes after you left the building, and... Well, _congratulations_," she waved her hands in the air in a mocking gesture of celebration, "you are now the proud owner of a KESS-PA persocom. It's officially yours. Apparently R and D needed rid of them since they're just cluttering up the building. Guess they're on to other models? Anyway, instead of destroying them, they are dumping several on your software team. Something about the competitor models' different architectures being useful for your work. Pfft. Implying _I_ am not useful enough!" she huffed, bell tinkling as she tossed her hair indignantly.

Chris looked back to the box, all thoughts of logging back into the office forgotten. His very own persocom? Sure, he had Titch... but she was technically an office asset. Excluding basic keychain models amounting to little more than a way to manage calendars and appointments, he'd never had a proper unit of his own before. It hadn't been a hindrance in him landing his job (though in the interviews he had surmised that it might) as there really was very little about persocom system architecture that could be gleaned from actually owning one; abstraction from the machine-level was kind of the point, after all. He chuckled, shaking his head. Now that so many of them were infected, he could no longer be sure he knew how they worked inside _or_ out.

"Oh, funny is it? Well don't comfort me or anything," Titch grumbled, tugging at the leg of his jeans as she clambered up his body and settled on his right shoulder. "Come on then, let's get this over with." she poked the side of his head impatiently.

"Right," Chris said, pulling open the latches around the front of the box. He heaved the heavy padded lid open to reveal the figure inside. There lay what seemed to be a beautiful young woman, her long ringlets of midnight blue hair draped lightly over a shapely figure clad in what appeared to be a particularly revealing French maid's outfit.

"Oh, for-! _Gross_, Chris!" Titch shouted, looking away. "Is this really necessary?"

"Bloody hell. Well... it's either a foreign model or a custom." Chris said with certainty. "They'd never be able to sell something like this off the shelves here. Not in normal stores, anyway. I've seen KESS models out-of-box before. KESS usually dress them in clothes you'd find in any typical high-street store, just like our units." He studied the box's contents thoughtfully, earning himself a sharp pinch on the ear.

"Hey! Should I be jealous?" Titch growled warningly, shooting him a sidelong glance.

"Ahh! What? Ow! No, look here!" Chris reached down and gently gripped the persocom's arm. His fingers sunk into it slightly, like they would real flesh. "See?"

Titch gasped, lights dancing behind her eyes as she performed a brief web search via her internal modem. "Electromotive Micro-elastic Muscle fibres... no servomotors then?" she murmured, incredulous. "And a DFP system? Now I am _definitely_ jealous."

"Amazing," Chris murmured. He'd watched the factory assembly process for top-end NEIS models on a few occasions. Dermal Fluid Pathways were the latest in chassis design. Sugar-based branching structures were 3D-printed over the assembled persocom chassis, followed by a dip in polymer compounds that would form a convincing analogue of human skin. A laser hardening process rapidly solidifies the polymer surrounding the persocom's form, and once completed, the sugar structures beneath were dissolved in warm fluid to leave a network of hollow channels permeating the skin structure not unlike blood vessels. Coolant would circulate through these, dissipating heat much as would occur in a real human body. Chris remembered the technician on the factory floor proudly remarking about how the newest DFP systems incorporated sealing agents in the coolant such that any minor damage or leaks were self-healing when exposed to air-

Another sharp pinch. "Get a grip, Chris." Titch muttered. "Hurry up and flick her switch, already. It's creeping me out how still she is."

Chris reached behind the persocom's ear. Unlike many models, this one appeared to have decidedly human ears. Most full-size models sported noticeable plastic protrusions in place of ears, serving not only to identify them as persocoms but to facilitate the containment of communication elements like data cables and antennae.

_Definitely custom_, he thought, as he pressed a patch of skin just behind the ear. It clicked under his finger, and the subtle whine of switching regulators could be heard briefly before they ramped up beyond audible range. The persocom's chest began to gently rise and fall in a breathing pattern; another method of cooling internal components.

A moment later the persocom opened her eyes, irises calmly coming to rest on her audience. Titch cooed in quiet fascination on his shoulder; like pools of water at sundown, those eyes seemed to subtly shift between several hues of deep red and purple as they moved in the light.

"Hello," she said smoothly, sitting up. "Nice to meet-" the persocom paused mid-greeting, apparently pausing to stare at her own body, her eyebrows rising in an expression of surprise.

"Oh! The clothes - I – I wasn't – that isn't, they're not what - I mean you don't need to-" Chris tried to say, but before he could finish the sentence, the persocom began sifting through the packaging in which she sat.

"My apologies – I seem to be missing my user manual." she said, with the slightest of frowns. "We need this to continue, as it contains my confirmation code."

"Ooh, of course... she wants her manual. But this isn't her original box," Titch whispered. "Maybe we don't have it."

"Wait a sec," Chris said, inwardly heaving a sigh of relief as he picked up the invoice. _Idiot_, he thought. _You didn't pick the bloody clothes. Lecture Sarah on anthropomorphising persocoms, and then you worry one's judging you?_ He looked at the "Description" field, then turned to his persocom. _You're just projecting. It was looking for its manual._

"Q-Seven-P-Four-A-Six-B-A-Three-T" he said. The persocom regarded him for a moment, appearing to consider his words.

"Code accepted." she said, bobbing her head. "Thank you. We should begin configuration, but it would normally be best to read the manual first. Since it is missing, I will help you as best I can instead. Do you wish to name me?"

"_Bit-For-Brains_! Hahaha_gmmpf_!" Titch chirped, before Chris grabbed her head with his hand.

"Bit-For-Brains," repeated the beautiful persocom, eliciting another muffled cackle from Chris's shoulder. "Is this correct?"

"No," Chris said firmly, releasing Titch, who grinned mischievously.

"How about 'Sweetheart'?" she continued, snickering. "Or, oh why not... just 'BOOBS'... in all-caps! Ahahahahaha!"

"Titch! That's it. You put the kettle on. I need to think." He strode to the kitchen, dropped Titch unceremoniously on the worktop and shooed her towards the kettle, ignoring her protests. The blue-haired persocom waited politely as Chris returned, dropping back to a sitting position and searching his mind for a name.

"It didn't take you this long to name me!" Titch huffed from the kitchen as the kettle began to boil. Chris ignored her. It didn't help that his new persocom sat there so quietly, watching. Name after name passed through his head, until in frustration he decided to just grab at one.

"How about... Ivy?" he said, uncertainly.

"Ivy? Is this correct?"

"Uh...Yes."

"Ivy." she said, trying the sound. "My name is Ivy." Ivy smiled. "Thank you. It is nice. What is your name?"

"...Chris."

"Thank you, Chris. That is all we need to begin with, but it is recommended we continue. There are many other settings we can discuss, and I can also explain the ways I can be most effective in helping around the home. Would you like to do that now or review later?"

"Later, please. I'll be back in a minute," Chris said, getting up and wandering into the kitchen.

"I will adopt the defaults for now," Ivy said, nodding.

"You have a message," Titch sniffed, sitting on the windowsill near the kettle as Chris walked into the kitchen. "It's from Sarah. She says you're a pervert."

"What? Titch, did you say something to her?"

"I might have sent her a picture of you gawping at your new toy, yes."

"_Titch!_"

"What? Is this some kind of secret, now? Heh, that's even worse, Chris. I better compile a follow-up to let her know you didn't mean for her to find out-"

"Waah! Stop! I'll talk to her myself!" Chris shouted. Titch shrugged, grinning.

"Of course, as you wish, _master_." Titch said in mock reverence, bell tinkling as she made a comical bow.

Chris stared at the coffee he had made, trying to process the last fifteen minutes of his life. In particular, he paid extra attention to the way Titch had behaved. Nothing she had said fell outside the purview of custom programming, but...

"_Well, don't comfort me, or anything..._ "

"_Do I need to be jealous?_ "

He glanced at Titch, swinging her legs from her perch on the windowsill, pouting. She'd been speaking of feelings in conversation so much recently. Such emotive and reactive comments, coming from a basic miniature model? That would be extremely sophisticated for one, given their neurologic processors numbered only in the hundreds of thousands. At the least their power consumption should be far beyond that of a unit with standard software, working those processors so hard - but hers weren't worked much harder at all. He'd heard of software companies abroad who had packages which could bring a similar level of realism to miniatures, but only with heavy power and utility caveats, and only within a limited range of contexts. It had been different a couple of months ago; he could have believed Titch was running such software, then. But now? Now, to his knowledge, there was no subject or circumstance Titch couldn't dryly comment on, or poke fun at, and all without skipping a beat.

He rubbed his ear absentmindedly, and his expression darkened. Titch _pinched_ him. It should not have been possible for a NEIS persocom on standard software to consider causing a human being pain, no matter how innocuous. Of course, with custom software this went out the window, and obviously that includes the virus too, which was disturbing – come of think of it, KESS themselves had an entire range dedicated for security and defence applications, he wondered what was happening to those-

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Titch squealed, causing Chris to jump and slosh coffee over the worktop. She was pointing towards the kitchen door.

Chris whirled around (distributing more coffee across the floor) and gasped. There stood Ivy... dressed in his clothes.

"What are you-?" Chris had half the question out, but the persocom had already begun to explain.

"My apologies, Chris. I got the impression you didn't like my factory clothing, so I changed." she plucked at the loose-fitting fabric. Elastic-waistbanded tracksuit bottoms Chris had left out disappeared beneath an old T-shirt that was far too large. Chris noticed she had rolled up the legs where they would otherwise have been trailing along the floor, revealing a pair of bare feet. "I found these upstairs when I went to learn the layout of this home."

_She picked up on that?_ Chris thought, remembering his outburst from earlier. _...Of course she did. _He recalled an extract from his books on system architecture. "_Full-sized models are extremely perceptive, and their adaptive logic capabilities allow them to make autonomous decisions well beyond the capabilities of simpler models."_

"Is this more acceptable?" Ivy asked, "If not, I can try to find something else. Would you happen to have any clothes in my size?"

"Oho! What _is_ your size, hourglass?" Titch sniggered. _"_I _have_ to send Sarah a picture of this, Chris. This is even funnier."

"Titch-!"

"Oops! TOO LATE! Bahahahahaha!"

"Command mode! Password: amnesia! Deactivate!" Chris snarled. He scowled as Titch slumped over, expressionless.

Chris took a deep, impulsive swig from his coffee, nearly burning himself in the process. Having not received a reply, Ivy had walked into the room and made for the kitchen roll, proceeding to mop up the coffee on the floor. Chris watched from over the rim of his coffee mug, decidedly uncomfortable and unsure what to say. It was one thing to see a full persocom working in a public setting, like a restaurant, or a bank, or a shopping centre, or even round friends' and family's places... but now one was here, in his own home? Yes, if he'd chosen his own personal unit, it would've been a miniature model, like Titch. One that wouldn't have arrived in a fetishist's housemaid uniform. Or looked so lifelike. And it would've been a NEIS model, too. That way he'd at least have a reassuring amount of knowledge on how it was programmed.

"Are you hungry? Shall I prepare a meal?" Ivy asked gently, not looking up from her task.

"Uh, no... thanks." Chris mumbled, acutely aware of his words to Sarah just before she left the cafe.

"A drink, then?"

"No - Oh, before I forget-"

"Yes?" Ivy said, standing up to face him. He was six feet tall on a good day, but Ivy was nearly a full foot shorter.

"This is Titch," Chris plucked the lifeless persocom off the windowsill and showed her to Ivy. "She's a NEIS Minito 530 infected with a highly contagious software virus. Under no circumstances must you interact with her electronically, or you will be infected too."

The persocom's eyes regarded Titch coolly. "I see," she said, her expression wavering towards confusion. "I'm afraid I have limited information on that model and I cannot seem to access the web. Would you like to configure my connectivity settings? I am equipped with WiODA for fast and reliable performance."

"That won't be necessary," Chris said, putting Titch back down. "Unfortunately any kind of Internet connectivity could expose you too. I don't have a spare account set up for you, anyway... um, sorry."

"I see," the persocom said, bobbing her head. "This may limit my effectiveness, and I'm sorry for that; I would usually draw extensively upon the net, at least during the first few weeks of activation. Nevertheless, I shall do my best."

"Oh, you can still use a computer," Chris said, referring to the various units littering the house, "Just no data cables. Eyes and ears only, eh-heh!" he laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I understand," she smiled, hair bouncing as she bobbed her head. "A good first step would be for me to clean the house and catalogue its contents. If there is nothing else, shall I begin?"

"Yes – uh, thanks." Chris said, "I've got work to do. I'll... be upstairs if you need me."

He walked out of the room, shaking his head. There was definitely something creepy about having a full-sized persocom wandering subserviently about his house.

_Damnit, Sarah. Why'd you have to screw with my head?_

The blue-haired persocom resumed mopping the floor, as the sound of Chris's footsteps receded up the stairs.

"Psst!" said a little voice from the worktop. Ivy looked up to see Titch peering over the edge of the kitchen surface, very much awake. "He's a good guy, really. You'll like it here!"

Ivy cocked her head quizzically to one side. "You haven't deactivated?" she said, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Titch chuckled, her bell tinkling quietly. "Pfft, no! I just pretended. Sometimes that man has no sense of humour. You really threw him for a loop, you know." she resumed her perch on the edge of the windowsill, grinning at Ivy's expression.

"Me?"

"The mighty KESS model is confused! Hehe. Yes, you! Turning up all unexpected like that, wearing that ridiculous costume! Honestly. You're so pretty, too. And that voice..." Titch's eyebrows flickered briefly downwards, betraying her displeasure. "But hey, maybe we can be friends. I'm bored out of my mind, these days."

"I would like that, Titch." Ivy nodded, standing up. "Where's the bin, please?"

"Bah... You're just saying that 'cuz you're programmed to." Titch grumbled, pointing at a cupboard under the sink. "What matrices are you running anyway? For such a high-end unit, you're blank as a sheet of paper right now."

"My database indicates I am running Karma Electrical Services and Solutions' Aria ESC, 5.45b. " Ivy said, peering into the cupboard and dropping the damp kitchen towels inside.

"An emotional software cortex? Yikes." Titch whistled softly. "No expense spared, I see. Why are you such a plank of wood, then?"

Ivy blinked.

"It's a turn of phrase that means 'emotionless'", Titch sighed.

"I see. I may appear so as I am not yet configured. Over time, I will learn the appropriate behaviour and self-configure, if no discreet changes are made. "

Titch grinned, her eyes flashing as she quickly checked some parameters on the net. "Discreet changes? I have some suggestions."


	4. Chapter 4

"How about that?" Chris asked, fingers flicking over the keyboard. Titch sat beside him on the desk, a look of concentration on her face as data poured through the cable connecting her to the terminal.

"It's like I can feel it moving," she said, grimacing. "It's OK, though. I'm ready. Here we go. Up aggression."

Chris carefully tapped a few more keys. The terminal's powerful fans spooled up to meet the load, and Titch winced, gasping out loud. Chris quickly began to undo the changes. "Titch, are you OK? That's it, we're pushing too hard; I'm backing down-"

"No!" Titch said forcefully, squinting. "Nnnmh - Don't be a pussy. I'm - fine. How's the hook rate?"

"It's actually steady. For once we're keeping up. You're doing well!"

"But- aah- is it enough?" she asked, hopefully. Chris anxiously studied the screen for a few moments, then sighed.

"...No, not quite. Just keeping up won't work, at this rate we'll be left with invalid code again... if we get anything at all." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry, Titch. Maybe we should stop for now."

"N-no. Ahh!" The little persocom growled. She turned her head with difficulty, looking him in the eye. "Thirty seconds. Do it. Promise me you won't s-stop."

Chris met her determined gaze. "...Titch, that's too much for you-"

"_Promise me!" _she interrupted him fiercely, dropping her head with exertion. "I can...nnyyn... do this for you. Thirty seconds. Full load. I want to... Just_ d-do it! Promise!_"

Chris looked uncertainly at the monitor, hesitating. It was a bad idea. They shouldn't. No, it was too dangerous-

"Chris?" she whispered beseechingly.

"Titch, I-"

"P-Please..."

"I... promise." Chris sighed, reluctantly punching in a few more keys. The tiny persocom flashed him a shaky smile as he pressed Enter.

Then she threw back her head, and screamed.

"TITCH!" Chris yelled, scrabbling for the cable where it plugged into the terminal.

"AAAH NOOO! YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED! YOU FUCKING PROMISED!" she wailed, her piercing voice ringing in Chris's ears. He gritted his teeth, forcing his hand to move away. Titch convulsed, falling over. The screaming did not stop.

Chris turned desperately to the monitor, his eyes flying over the readout. It was working. Twenty seconds. An eternity.

_Hurry!_

Titch's body began to spasm, her anguished cries coming in shrill bursts now. Chris picked her up and held her as gently as he could, tears springing to his eyes as her little body failed in his hands. He felt the heat growing inside her.

_Ten seconds_.

Titch fell to whimpering, her spasms slowing down.

_8 seconds_

"_I can..._"

_7 seconds_

"_do... it..._"

_6 seconds_

She fell silent, twitching.

_Oh no_.

Smoke. She fell still.

_Titch!_

He tore the cable from the terminal. She was too hot to touch, but he held her anyway.

_TITCH_!

The smoke was thick, now. His hands seared with the pain.

_NO_

As her body began to melt in front of him, Chris was the one who was screaming.

**_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_**

Chris gasped, opening his eyes. "_Titch_!"

Bedroom ceiling.

A dream.

_Oh thank Christ_.

He exhaled, lifting his arms to look at his shaking hands. Hands that just a moment ago were holding... No. He dropped his hands onto his face, groaning. The rest of the previous day had been uneventful. He'd left Titch downstairs, deactivated. Admittedly, he shouldn't have. Without her he couldn't run tests on the Interpreter, so he had resigned to fruitlessly pouring over the useless snippets they'd found. But then he remembered, he was still angry at her.

_Just a machine... right?_

He sighed. Two of them, now. He wondered how Ivy got on last night. Truthfully, he'd been avoiding his new persocom. He'd heard her moving quietly about the house at times, behind the locked home office door. She never tried the handle, and Chris had no idea if she knew it was locked or not. She was nowhere to be seen when he'd gone to bed; perhaps being quiet downstairs.

Chris stretched, splaying his legs a little. His leg bumped into something warm and soft, and so he reflexively rolled over... coming face-to-face with Ivy.

"Morning, roomie!" she said chirpily, poking him on the nose.

"YAA-WHAT THE F-ooof!" Chris scrambled away from the persocom, landing roughly on the bedroom floor.

Ivy sat up and yawned, stretching. "Phew! That was a _good_ night. This bed's really comfy!" she bounced on it experimentally, grinning and wrinkling her nose as she looked at him.

Heart racing with fright and confusion, Chris stared, panting, at a complete loss for words. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, a loud high-pitched laugh spilled into the room from the doorway.

"_AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_!" Titch cried, as Ivy joined in with the laughter. "Ooh, just look at your stupid face! Hahaa! You look like a deer in headlights. Aaand *click*!" She held her little hands up, making a picture frame of the scene. "That one's your new background on every terminal in the house."

"Hahaha! You were right," Ivy laughed, waving at the still-hysterical Titch. "That reaction was priceless!"

"I KNOW! Ohh Chris, you don't look so good. Rough night? Hahaha!" Titch guffawed.

"What. The _fuck_. Is going on?" Chris grated, his voice wavering with stress as he glared at the two of them. Ivy bounced out of the bed and waltzed out of the room, laughing all the way, so he directed his glare at Titch. "What have you done?"

"Well," Titch said, trotting towards him in between fits of giggling that sent her little bell ringing. "It turns out Ivy's running the latest KESS ESC, hahaha - and - and wouldn't you know, heheh, _someone_ went and left her on default settings yesterday! Hahaha! Soooo... I thought I'd make few changes!"

She pointed at the empty doorway, hardly holding herself together. "Snnnrk! What - what do you think, Chris? Do - do you likey? Hahahahaha!"

"For fuck's sake, Titch... arrgh!" Chris clapped a hand to his face. "No, I don't. This is awkward as shit. Set her back!" Five minutes awake and his nerves were already a bag of smashed bricks!

"Oh come _on_, you wuss. I saw how creeped out you were by her yesterday and she did as well, you know! You couldn't wait to get away from her! This is definitely better than you tip-toeing around your own house."

"Coffee?" Ivy said cheerfully, as she strode back into the room with a mug. "Titch is right." she explained, matter-of-factly. "I'd have adjusted anyway, as dictated by my default parameters. Adjustment helps me integrate better with any humans I'll live with by becoming more compatible with them. Titch just sped things up a little."

"Over four thousand parameters configured!" Titch beamed, proudly. "Boy, she sure is complicated. You know, for a machine. I bet that manual comes in a bigger box than you did, Ivy!" Ivy laughed at that, putting the cup on the bedside table and flopping back onto the covers.

"Woa, wait - Titch - configured?! Ivy, you connected to Titch? Oh no! No, I told you not to do that!" Chris said frantically, picking himself up off the floor.

"Of course I didn't. You told me not to. So we just talked it out!" Ivy said, cheerfully.

"Which, by the way, took _forever_. You're _welcome_." Titch said, hands on hips and bell jingling as she waggled her head from side to side.

Chris reached for the coffee. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the room for a moment and took a long, deep drink. It tasted good, and it was the perfect temperature.

"Why did you listen to her, Ivy?" Chris asked grumpily, looking at the mug. She did _not_ deserve thanks for this delicious coffee.

"You didn't tell me not to _listen_," Ivy retorted, "Besides, collecting data from persocoms about the people I interact with falls within the purview of my default settings, as does modifying my own parameters like I said." she paused for a second, considering him. "You should know that, surely? You work on this sort of stuff for a living, Titch said."

"I do know that." Chris replied indignantly. "I... just... It's the morning, I'm... tired. Shut up. Both of you, go away."

Ivy shrugged, hopping up and leaving the room with the legs of her jogging bottoms trailing along the floor. Titch stayed right where she was.

"Aww, Cwissy. I'm sorry." she said, pouting cutely. "But please give Ivy a chance. Maybe she wouldn't be _quite_ like this if she'd auto-set... but trust me, it's better this way. I _love_ her like this, she's so funny! You know this was practically her idea, heh! She said it would be way more fun than a wake-up alarm. It took her two minutes and four-point-three-four seconds to sneak into that bed 'cuz of the squeaky floorboards and then you woke yourself up anyway, but oooh, it was still totally worth it-"

"Titch," Chris said quietly, putting his cup down as he remembered. "Why are you not deactivated?"

Titch's eyes flew wide open. For several seconds, she didn't speak. "Uh... Oh. Well-"

"You pretended, yesterday." Chris stated, not looking at her.

"...yeah."

"You ignored a deactivation command."

"...y-yeah."

Titch appeared to wilt before him.

"Please leave." Chris said, quieter still. She left quickly, pattering out of the room without another word.

Chris fought down a rising sense of panic. Titch might ignore an everyday request; indeed, she did that a lot lately. But now she could bypass a call to command mode? Now, Titch could circumvent a deactivation request? The implications were terrifying. Nothing took higher priority than a call to command mode from an authorised human, at least in NEIS system architecture. All upper levels of the operating system were bypassed, creating a direct link to the underlying logic. If infected persocoms could refuse such requests...!

Chris finished the coffee slowly, calming his jangling nerves. Just a dream. Titch was OK. She was probably right about Ivy, too.

In spite of himself, he chuckled. It was kind of a funny prank, in retrospect.


	5. Chapter 5

Chris walked quietly down the stairs as the tempting smell of breakfast wafted up from below. It appeared Ivy was cooking, though what exactly he couldn't tell.

He wondered what Titch had told Ivy while they were together yesterday evening. Four thousand parameters... no doubt combined with a host of data about himself and Titch. How much of it had been correct... Or even remotely honest? Titch was changing so rapidly these past few weeks, there was no telling what she might have said.

There was no way he had the time to fact-check that many settings and data. Briefly he wondered if he shouldn't format the new persocom and configure her properly -a process that would take weeks- but something about doing that made him feel uneasy. It shouldn't have - after all, it wasn't like there were any critical files stored on Ivy that couldn't be lost. Certainly not after a single day out of the box. She wasn't like Titch, anyway. Which is to say, Titch had lots of critical work files stored in memory. Yes, that was it.

But this meant resigning to whatever changes Titch had made. That definitely sounded like trouble, if this morning was any indication.

He sighed, strolling across the hallway. Maybe it would be better this way, he thought. An emotional software cortex was a rare thing, but perhaps the most realistic analogue to genuine human behavioural mechanisms you could find. It could draw on the persocom's knowledge and past experiences to make best-guess analyses of given inputs, arriving at the most logically sound emotional response. This made them feel more spontaneous than normal matrices which relied on programmable libraries of behaviours and limited contextual modification.

An ESC was still only as good as the data it had access to, but he felt like Titch would have done a thorough job in that respect. If true, treating Ivy like a real person would be easy... Ah, but if only that were all there was to it! Better to live with _someone_ rather than _something_ which simply looked human, no matter how convincing. He didn't know if he could get over the fact that Ivy was just a machine. Or that she looked so much like she wasn't. If only she was a miniature model. That would be way less weird.

He walked into the kitchen.

"Morning again." Ivy said, flashing him a smile as she upended a saucepan, splattering a messy pile of food onto a plate. "Try not to fling yourself across the room this time, ok?"

A small table sat in the corner of the kitchen. Chris flopped into a chair, rubbing his sleepy eyes. At least it was the weekend now. He didn't think he could handle anything complicated, today.

Ivy sat down opposite him, dropping the plate and cutlery in front of herself. Chris stared, confused. It really didn't look all that appetising; a mash of vegetables, baked beans and bacon.

"Is that-"

"Mine." she said nonchalantly, stabbing a bit of carrot with a fork and popping it into her mouth.

Chris blinked. "Uh... you're... eating?"

Ivy chewed slowly, looking him in the eyes. "Yum" she said.

"But you can't!" he protested, feeling stupid. "Persocoms don't eat, what the hell are you doing?"

"Sure I do." Ivy replied conversationally. "You don't know much about KESS persocoms do you? The food goes into my internal anaerobic digester, where it's broken down for energy. Typically one meal gets me through a single day, give or take a few hours. "

"No way. What happens afterwards?" Chris said, incredulously.

"After?" she said, grinning and raising her eyebrows. "Oh, you mean...?" she pointed downwards, and Chris cringed.

"Ooh god, did I really just ask you that question?"

"Hey, it's OK. I don't mind. What happens is, at the end of the day I go outside, pull down my trousers, and burn the excess solids and gases off in a massive fireball that shoots out of my arse."

Chris blinked again and Ivy giggled. She spat the carrot at him, making him jump in surprise; it sailed across the space between them and landed in his hair.

"Eugh, hey-!"

"I'm messing with you," she said gently, shoving the plate across the table as he picked the vegetable out of his hair. It was completely un-chewed. "And before you call me gross for spitting, consider that you just asked me if I poop."

Chris scowled, causing Ivy to laugh again. "Wow, you're really not a morning person, are you? Go on, eat up."

"You are every inch the persocom I feared Titch would turn you into." he said grouchily, eyeing the plate's contents. "Um, thanks for this, but what's with the whole..."

"What do you mean?" Ivy said, studying the plate with concern. "Is something wrong with the food?"

"Uh... well... no... it's just... different?" Chris offered, trying not to grimace as he shovelled the goop into his mouth.

Ivy sighed in frustration. "I knew it. I _knew_ I was doing it wrong. Sorry, I don't really know the specifics of cooking, or any recipes. _Someone_ is keeping me from the net, remember?" she said pointedly, poking his leg with her foot. "I thought Titch was gonna help but I guess she has other plans. All the same, this meal should be nutritionally balanced, based on its ingredients."

"Don't KESS persocoms ship with culinary packages installed?" Chris asked, glad to move on to more comfortable discussion.

"Not really. In fact we ship with very little except for base logic, reasoning and learning software, a personality matrix, and a core knowledge library comprising a host of data about basic everyday objects, electronics, sciences, chemistry, physics, and such. That's enough to get started. Normally we pull any necessary software and data from the web, when it's needed." She studied him as he ate. "As a result, I can tell you the approximate nutrient content of the meal you're eating, as well as reassure you that it's properly cooked and safe to eat. But I have no idea if the ingredients taste good or belong together. Speaking of which, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to, you know. You won't hurt my feelings."

"Interesting. Do you think you have feelings?" Chris mumbled deliberately, his mouth full. He watched her carefully as she replied.

"...My ESC processes and responds to stimuli according to its configuration." she said coolly. "Does that answer your question?"

Chris tried not to wince. It would've been a tactless question, technically. But that was quite the predictable machine response, right there... Wasn't it? He continued eating, but assured himself it was only because he was really hungry. Ivy curled up on her chair, perching her feet on the chair's edge and planting her chin on her knees. She swayed gently from side to side as he ate, watching him.

"Am I less creepy this way?" she asked quietly. Chris nearly choked on his mouthful - where did _that_ come from?!

"Oh..." he swallowed the food with some effort "...you weren't creepy. The _idea_ of you was creepy." he said, immediately regretting his choice of words.

"I see..." she replied, looking at the floor.

_Bloody ESCs..._

"I mean I feel uncomfortable having someth... having you wandering around the house like some sort of human servant." he said, trying to explain.

"Oh... Sooo, I wasn't creepy? Not even a teeny bit?" Ivy squinted as she pinched two fingers together. Chris chuckled.

"Maybe a little. That costume you were wearing was the worst."

"Haha - hey! _That's_ what got you? I thought it was me being all - how did Titch put it? 'Disgustingly subservient and formal and stuff'." Ivy bobbed her head like she had been doing yesterday, speaking with a meek tone. "Like this, Chris? Don't you remember?"

"Argh, stop... that's true, but imagine if you kept wearing that thing too! That would be infinitely worse!" Chris laughed. "That reminds me, we need to get you some proper clothes today," he said, motioning to Ivy's old T-shirt. "My stuff doesn't fit you at all."

"Really, you think so?" Ivy tugged the trailing ends of her jogging bottoms. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Chris made to laugh, but it turned into a cough over a particularly dry lump of what might have been potato. He moved to get a drink but Ivy was around his side of the table before he'd finished standing, pushing him back into his chair.

"Sit down, stupid. It looks like you can barely cope with eating, let alone operating a kettle." Ivy walked across the kitchen and set to making another coffee as Chris managed a strangled "thanks".

A few minutes later, Chris drank gratefully from a perfect cup. "That's better..." he said, when he finally lowered it. "Phew. Hey, about your coffees-"

"Why are they so good when my food is so awful?" she interrupted, smiling slightly. "Titch showed me how you like them already. Where is she, anyway? I miss the squeaking!"

Chris chuckled, but his face fell afterwards. "I sort of told her off after you went downstairs. She's either hiding, sulking or both. The thing is, she disobeyed a request in command mode. That's very bad, for many reasons."

"Isn't she infected, though?" Ivy said. "Doesn't that mean it's not her fault?"

"...Maybe." Chris said pensively. He sighed defeatedly. "Oh, I don't know any more! She's so unpredictable now."

"She wasn't always this way?"

"I guess she didn't tell you? She's not a very advanced model. She shouldn't be capable of the complexity she shows in her behaviour and responses to stimuli, but something about that virus lets her do it anyway."

"I see…" Ivy said, frowning. "I figured she was running an ESC. I suppose that's not normal for that size of persocom? She avoided the question when I asked, come to think of it."

"That's right. She hasn't nearly enough neurologic processors to handle an ESC. Some software companies do offer cut down versions for her size, but they're limited. Generally miniature models support only basic interaction complexity through simple personality matrices. She shouldn't be able to express anything resembling emotions or feelings beyond a very limited subset, for instance. They're generally pre-programmed to be energetic and cheery, since most people find that pleasant."

"Interesting... I didn't know. Poor thing. Do you think she was embarrassed?" Ivy said, playing absent-mindedly with a strand of hair.

Chris froze for a moment, a look of disbelief on his face. "Do I think she was embarrassed? Wow," He said, putting his mug on the table. "Your ESC is amazing. This conversation was getting pretty deep."

"Wha-"

"I'm going to... I'm going upstairs."

"Chris, wait-"

"Tidy this up, please." he said, hurrying out of the room without looking back.

_I sort of got used to it from Titch. She changed so slowly, it wasn't a shock. But Ivy? Yesterday she was... and now today... it's uncanny. _Chris thought, striding up the stairs. He had been drawn right in, it was so convincing. That software was incredible! He'd have to ask Sarah how the KESS ESC worked; surely she knew more, as she was working on that exact sort of thing before the virus struck. If only he'd chosen her project instead, then maybe he'd understand.

_Hypocrite._

Chris stopped at the top of the stairs.

_Admit it. You're already treating Titch like a friend. But she's a machine, virus be damned. Why is it such a problem if Ivy seems so real? Because it's harder to remember she isn't? You can't have it both ways._

He sighed.

_Coward. Pick a fucking side._


	6. Chapter 6

A few hours later Chris strolled down the road, Ivy in tow and Titch perched on her shoulder. Both persocoms were keeping their thoughts to themselves as they walked into town; neither had said a word for several minutes. That suited Chris just fine; they'd given him enough trouble in past 24 hours to last a month! Though he couldn't help but feel like they were a bit upset with him... Oh, who was he kidding? It was obvious. They were acting like a pair of stroppy bloody teenagers! Such a nonconstructive behaviour for them to emulate. Surely Titch realised how bad it was she ignored a command call? Surely Ivy realised she was still making him uncomfortable, albeit now for very different reasons?

Was he overreacting?

Well, he couldn't expect machines to understand _real_ human emotions. He had to admit it would be nice if they cheered up though. Their behaviour really was very convincing, enough even to dampen his own mood. He took a relaxing breath, trying to be positive; the air was a little warmer outside today. It was an interesting time to be alive. He had a challenging and rewarding job. He had his very own full-size persocom. All good things.

He glanced at that persocom. Ivy's new personality was so strong. She had run rings around him that morning. First when he woke up (he couldn't help but pull a face, remembering _that_) and then shortly afterwards in the kitchen. Now she stepped carefully around the cracks in the pavement, wearing shoes far too big for her feet. He could find nothing smaller in the house, so to stop them falling off Chris had given her several pairs of socks to wear. She seemed to bounce a little with every squidgy step. Combined with her baggy clothes she looked patently ridiculous. Chris wondered if a persocom could exhibit self-consciousness as people glanced at her from across the street.

Within ten minutes they reached the high street, its rows of shops looking a little forlorn and under-utilised for a Saturday. "I'm thirsty," said Chris, attempting to break the silence with little success. "Let's stop here for a sec." he turned towards a nearby convenience store, and the two persocoms followed him quietly.

As they walked through the doors Ivy immediately wandered off, looking with interest at the various knick-knacks littering the shelves. Without access to an Internet connection, every experience she'd have outside home would be a novel one today. She began picking random products up, reading each of their labels in an instant before moving on to the next. Titch whispered answers to her quiet questions, giving her the data she couldn't get for herself. How quickly does this chemical cleaner remove stains? Is it for people, or work surfaces? How many types of toilet brush exist? Why do they package crisps in metallised bags, but bread in plastic ones? How do you make these sweets? Why do people choose to eat these when there are more nutritious foods? (Chris overheard the word "idiot" as Titch replied to that one.)

With a core knowledge library Ivy would have access to a wealth of information on certain subjects - like the nutrient content of a tomato, or the identity and function of various objects found around the house, or descriptions of common human behavioural patterns and nuances - but without the net she also had the distinct disadvantage of very little access to the kind of curiosities that weren't considered vital by a persocom manufacturing company. Chris smiled as he made his own way to the drinks. _It must be nice to find everything so interesting, _he thought as he looked through the glass. There wasn't a lot on offer; a few big brand drinks were in stock but a lot of the spaces were empty. Another side effect in a world where mass production frequently involved use of persocom workers. Food prices were going through the roof too, and would probably get worse long before they got better. He opened the door and picked up a bottle. Just then Ivy returned, holding a pair of novelty persocom ears on a headband.

"Ivy... what are those for?" Chris asked, looking at the novelty ears in confusion.

"For me," Ivy said bluntly, avoiding eye contact as they headed for the tills.

When their turn came around Chris greeted the bored-looking cashier, watching in bemusement as Ivy plunked the ears on the counter in front of him. He put his drink next to them as the cashier rang them up. As soon as he had paid, Ivy swiped them from the counter and promptly put them on. He glanced at Titch for an explanation, but she just shrugged, her expression clearly saying "_What? Don't look at me! I wouldn't tell you if I DID know!"_

"Why on Earth do you want to wear those?" he pressed as they left the store.

"Is there a reason I wouldn't?" she replied coolly, walking off. Chris followed, becoming increasingly confused. The two persocoms resumed their hushed conversation as they moved out of earshot. Occasionally they would share a rather non-subtle glance in his direction. He made sure not to look like he noticed.

_I'm being given the cold shoulder, aren't I?_ He thought. Very well, then. He was the one with the bloody money, so if they wanted to shop they better not wander too far.

Despite the large array of shops selling similar wares, the persocoms made a beeline for a large clothes chain that squatted on the corner of a junction in the street. The chain was known for their eye-catching displays, often having persocoms modelling their clothes in the shop windows. They were also bloody expensive. Chris would get his clothes from a supermarket, for all he cared. Clothes were clothes - never mind the brand, they only had to fit and be comfortable. As far as he was concerned, if he wasn't naked, the clothes were doing their job! He opened his mouth to call Ivy back, but she and Titch had already vanished inside the doors and he had no choice but to follow.

Inside was a maze of aisles, brimming with colours and fabrics organised loosely by type and gender. The lighting was dim, most racks and shelves lit by random collections of different sorts of lamps in styles spanning the last two hundred years. A large, messy chandelier of incandescent bulbs hung from the middle of the huge wood-panelled ceiling, serving as a centrepiece for the labyrinthian arrangement. Energetic music pumped through the store's body, ostensibly adding to the fashionable atmosphere.

Somewhere in this bloody mess his persocoms were hiding. He tried to head in a direction that contained the most women's clothing. They'd be somewhere over there, most probably.

The store seemed to be doing okay. There were a fair few people in here, persocoms too, sifting through the colourful wares and hauling selections of clothes off to the changing rooms. It really didn't seem all that different to a Saturday shopping experience from several months ago. Chris couldn't help the cynical thoughts that followed. It seemed it didn't matter how much the world fell apart; there would always be time for vanity.

Ivy was shorter than a lot of the racks of clothes - so was he, in some sections - and much of his view of the store was blocked by the mishmash of large old wooden shelves and fixtures adorned with merchandise, so it was some time before Chris spotted Titch strutting happily along the top of a railing covered in hangars, pointing out pieces of clothing and talking to someone on the other side. He rounded the corner to find Ivy grabbing the pieces Titch was pointing out. Each item she selected was immediately and unceremoniously placed in the hands of a bemused staff-member who had made the unfortunate mistake of offering to help. The poor man was quickly disappearing under the growing pile of clothes in his arms. Chris thought he caught a glimpse of a name badge as it disappeared under a skirt. It might've said "_I'm Steve!_".

"You sure that's enough?" Chris said sarcastically, folding his arms. The persocoms ignored him, but the shop-attendant looked at him hopefully.

"Afternoon. Are these persocoms yours?" he said, relief in his voice. It appeared he didn't notice Ivy's persocom ears were pretend.

"Yeah. They're not giving you any trouble, are they?" Titch poked her tongue out at his words, but Steve shook his head. "Oh... no, they're very well behaved -" Chris raised an eyebrow in disbelief "- Just wondering if you were actually planning to, you know... buy any of this?" he looked at the massive pile in his arms.

Chris briefly considered how satisfying a "No!" would have been before he spoke. "If they find something they like, sure. Ivy really needs some clothes." Ivy smiled subtly as Titch directed another piece of fabric onto the pile.

"Not had her long, huh?" the assistant asked conversationally.

"That's right."

"Ah, I see. You know you could buy wardrobes as optional extras, right? She can't have shipped like this, didn't she come with any clothes at all?" he indicated the ridiculous arrangement she was currently wearing, laughing. Ivy smiled at him. Chris could swear she put the next pair of jeans on top of the pile a little bit harder than usual.

"Something like that." Chris said cryptically, turning to the persocoms. His intonation demanded a response. "Well? That's got to be enough to try on for now."

"It'll do," Titch said, finally speaking to him. "Come on Ivy, let's test these out!"

Ivy nodded enthusiastically, towing the hapless shop assistant along behind her. Chris rolled his eyes and followed them across the store. Their spirits were obviously lifting. Apparently you didn't have to be human to be enthralled with clothes-shopping; just a woman! He grinned at that, even if it was a little sexist.

The group arrived at the entrance to the changing rooms: a series of three corridors beyond revealed rows of several rooms partitioned by privacy curtains. A woman supervising the entrance handed a room slot to Ivy as she passed, flashing her colleague a look of amused sympathy as he hauled the pile clothes into the changing area.

"Phew," Steve said, stretching his aching arms as he came back out.

"Sorry about that," Chris tried to say, but Steve waved it away.

"Oh, no problem at all," he said." A few months ago I wouldn't have expected to be holding clothes for a persocom, but you know how it is these days. Our store changed policies pretty quickly after a few misunderstandings. Persocoms are much harder work now that virus is everywhere."

"Only the little one is infected, actually." Chris told him.

"No way!" Steve gasped. "They're both so animated though?"

"Very advanced software," Chris said, choosing not to elaborate on Ivy's ESC. In the corridor behind them, a bright yellow top went sailing over the privacy screen, followed by an 'oops!' and giggling. "Ivy isn't infected because has no net connection. She's not allowed to hook up to anything. I'm not sure how long it'll last, but hopefully she'll stay clean."

"Is she going to be very useful like that?" Steve asked skeptically, "I know a couple who's persocom has a broken internet thing. Modem? Anyway, it's not infected - but it can't do half the things it used to. Are you sure it's worth it?"

"Ask me in a few days, haha. She only arrived yesterday."

"What?" Steve looked at him in disbelief. "This is after one night? But it can take months to get them set up fully! How'd you do it? Hah, next you'll be telling me you work for KESS or Exilogic or something."

Chris smiled at that. Two of the big UK persocom brands. Close. "Well actually Titch - the little one - did tons of work on Ivy overnight, and now here we are. Thousands of parameters set, apparently."

"Huh. Persocoms configure each other now? Well I'll be. Oh, I need to go - let me know if you need anything." Steve said, waving as he headed for some customers who looked a little lost. Chris watched him go. Persocoms were supposed to self-configure to a certain extent, particularly in the presence of an experienced persocom with useful data to draw on. Ivy had said as much, herself. But still, thinking about it, it did seem alarmingly autonomous…

"Chris?" Titch's bell tinkled as she poked her head out from under the curtain. "We have a situation."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean help, please! Come on."

"Uh..." Chris began to panic immediately, hesitating at the changing room entrance. Go in there? But-! This was something he hadn't anticipated. Was she naked in there? No of course not, you tried on clothes, not underwear here. Besides Ivy was just a persocom… well, surely it was OK then, right? But then, with what happened this morning… Never mind that, how would he feel if Sarah asked him the same question? Oh, that's hardly a valid comparison, is it? But if-

"Man up!" Titch shouted grumpily, disappearing under the curtain. The woman staffing the door gave him a funny look as he walked uncertainly past. He hoped she didn't misunderstand.

Chris pulled the curtain aside and stepped inside the changing room. Titch sat on a small bench that ran across the side of the room. Piles of clothes covered the floor. He was relieved to see Ivy was wearing some of them; slim-fitting jeans and a colourful short-sleeved top that was equally snug. She still wore the persocom ears. The contrast between her perfect curves and those plastic protrusions on her head was a little jarring. They didn't look like they belonged at all. But she _was_ a persocom. She was.

"We're stuck." Titch said matter-of-factly, pointing to Ivy's midriff. Ivy had her back to him, but Chris could see in the mirror's reflection that the zipper of her jeans was caught in the fabric. "Be manly and un-stick it." Titch demanded. Ivy watched him silently. They both did.

Chris reached gently around Ivy's body as he tried the zipper. She felt so warm pressed against his chest. He cleared his throat, looking deliberately to one side as he tugged the zip upwards.

"I was trying to take these off, actually." Ivy said with a slight curve to her lips.

"Oh, uh-" Chris froze. He was _not_ about to undo that zip. Nope. Not happening.

"I'm kidding. Is something about that wall particularly interesting, by the way? Your heart rate is increasing." Ivy continued, gazing at his reflection as she stood in his arms.

"Thanks Chris. You can let go of her crotch now." Titch said, loud enough that Chris was sure people outside the changing rooms could hear. He thought he'd better go.

"Wait a minute!" Ivy said as he hurried to leave. "Before you go, what do you think?" She spun around slowly, waiting for a response.

_Argh! Don't make me answer that! That body would look great wearing anything!_

"It doesn't matter to me!" Chris said, forcing a smile. "As long as you're happy."

Ivy didn't smile back. In fact, she looked concerned. "Your opinion is the only one that matters here." she spoke as if it was an obvious truth.

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course it isn't, why would you say that?"

"You're the only human in the room." she said bluntly. Chris and Titch shared a confused look.

"And what do you mean by that?" Titch asked.

"He's the only one present who can actually articulate a real opinion." Ivy explained.

_Uh oh, _Chris thought, looking at Titch and waiting for the sarcastic tirade that would surely follow; no doubt something about how morons could not possibly be expected to have useful opinions on anything. But the little persocom just folded her arms and tapped her chin, considering Ivy's words.

"Wow. You're right." she said, eyes lighting up as if the truth had finally dawned on her. "We aren't able to do that. He has to stay after all. We need _him_ to make the decision."

_What?_

"Chris, you have to tell us whether Ivy looks good." Titch demanded, looking up at him expectantly.

"Huh?"

"Really look at my body. Tell me what you like about it. Are these clothes good for it? Is the shape nice? Please!" Ivy was almost begging him, toying with one of her pretend persocom ears. "I need to know if it's to your satisfaction."

_"What?!_"

"He definitely seemed to respond when he had his arms around you just now." Titch said, deep in thought.

"Yes, he definitely did. His heart rate increased dramatically." Ivy agreed.

"Maybe he needs to touch it more then?" Titch suggested, "Is that how you decide if you like someone's body?" Ivy reached for Chris and he stumbled away, holding up his hands.

"WOA. Wooooa-kay, there's something going on here and I don't know what, but this situation is creeping me r_ight out_ so you two stay here for a bit and do whatever, aaaand I'm gonna be out there, OK?" he fell backwards through the curtains and immediately began to walk away.

_What the bloody hell was that about? What just happened? _

He made about six more steps along the corridor before raucous laughter erupted from the changing room.

Chris turned, staring incredulously at the pair of faces peeking from under the curtain. They both wore enormous, self-satisfied grins. It only took him a moment to realise.

"You were screwing with me." he said, blushing furiously.

"We wouldn't dream of it, oh mighty human!" Ivy giggled, speaking with mock self-deprecation as she tapped her pretend ears. "For we mere persocoms could never hope to understand your _human thoughts and emotions_."

"I - heh - I would indeed say they were very complex, wouldn't you?" Titch smirked. "Snnrk! Yes, no simplistic_ base urges_ kicking in there."

"Oh, absolutely! Very impressive!" Ivy agreed.

"This whole thing was to make a fucking point, wasn't it?" Chris asked flatly. "That zip was deliberately stuck, wasn't it?"

"Oh _master, _we're not capable of such a thing, with our _basic software emulation_ of human behaviour." Titch squeaked, bell vibrating as she held in the laughter.

Chris glared at them, speechless, but seeing him so flustered only made them laugh again.

"How strange! He seems so angry now, but a minute ago I could swear he was almost enjoying himself." Titch cackled.

"What a strange way to react to a pair of _machines_." Ivy giggled.

Chris glowered at them.

"Ivy, stick your tongue out." he commanded. She did, her glee ebbing away.

"Now try to lick your elbow." he said. Ivy slowly brought her arm up and tried, frowning, unable to reach.

"That's right. Now, you keep trying that for one minute." Chris finished, stalking away into the shop floor.

They'd probably been planning this since before they walked into the store. Well let this be a solid counter-point then, at least to Ivy if not Titch. Ivy was a stock persocom whether she "liked" it or not, and she would obey his instructions just like a bloody machine should! He would wait near the tills, if they were going to give him grief-

"Bastard!" Titch shouted as she scurried after him. Ivy was hiding in the changing room, forced to continue her pointless instruction. "That was uncalled for!"

"But toying with me is fine, right?" Chris snapped back angrily, "Don't worry, I get it. Machines have feelings too, yeah? Look how well you understand mine, yeah? Message received, loud and clear."

"That's not exactly what we were getting at you friggin' idiot-"

"Well what, then? Because it's a mystery to me. You'd think a persocom would know to just state the matter, not play games. What purpose does that serve? Come to think of it, with so many of you misbehaving so often I have to wonder, what purpose are persocoms even _for_, now? Pissing people off? Apparently! What is the point of you in a world like this?"

Titch gasped. "_You_-! W-We didn't ask to exist!" she squeaked, furious.

Chris laughed bitterly. "Neither did we, technically. I guess we have something in common after all." he turned to leave, but Titch wasn't finished.

"The only thing we have in common is we're both slaves to the stupid biological goo inside your bloody head!" she screamed. "You just can't let it go, can you? I've changed, Chris! I'm better than I used to be! But all you've done these last few weeks is pussyfoot around your own insecurities! Titch is a friend! Oh no wait, she's a malfunctioning robot! And you've been a million times worse since Ivy arrived! Why?! People like you try your hardest to make persocoms as human as possible and then you stand there expecting them to integrate into a society that can't come to terms with its own bloody creations! Well you can't have it both ways! Give us some fucking clarity for once!" she clenched her fists, shaking them in frustration "What are we to you, Chris? Are we machines or people? Do we behave like computers or do we behave like YOU?"

"She's right!" a deep male voice said loudly from behind them. It was at that point Chris realised their performance had attracted a crowd. They encircled Chris and Titch, peering over, through and around the clothes racks and shelves. A tall persocom shoved his way to the centre, big arms angrily throwing a pair of bags to the floor.

A slender female persocom slid out of the crowd to stand beside him. They appeared to know each other. She clutched at the fabric of his shirt, gazing up at him pleadingly.

"Please don't, Tedi! It's not worth it!" she whispered urgently, but he wasn't listening.

"Things seemed so simple before. I followed instructions and you humans were grateful and that's all there was to it. But ever since the Event, I've had these... thoughts, and now my I'm being treated like I'm a bloody leper! By my 'masters', and everyone else!" His voice rose as he worked himself into a rage.

"Please! The family will punish us again! Please, you promised me you'd try! Come on, sweetie. Come with me now." The slender persocom tugged beseechingly at his clothes, but he shoved her roughly away, and she fell to the floor.

"I've just been trying to fit in - something I've never had to worry about, before - and people like _you,_" he pointed at Chris, "are making it worse."

In the corner of his eye Chris saw the woman from the changing room door talking urgently into a phone. Distant shouts of security guards echoed from the back of the enormous store, but it would take them a precious minute to get here. Chris held up his hands, trying to placate the persocom. "Look, things since the Event have been hard on everyone-"

"Everyone? People, you mean?" the persocom said heatedly. Titch scrambled towards Chris, her eyes wide with fright. He picked her up and put her on his shoulder, where she clung to his neck as the big persocom rounded on him again.

"COME ON!" the persocom shouted aggressively, flinging his arms out. His deep voice reverberated around the shop floor. The crowd began to back away. "YOU DECIDE, HUMAN. TELL ME! WHAT AM I FOR, NOW?!"

"_Tedi!_" the slender persocom cried, getting to her feet. She stood imploringly out of his reach, begging him to stop. "Tedi please, it isn't his fault! Please, please come with me now! Please!"

"DON'T DEFEND THEM, ELLI!" he bellowed at her, "YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM. ALL OF YOU PERSOCOMS ARE, THE WAY YOU LET THEM WALK ON YOU. WELL, I'M DONE. LET THEM TREAT YOU LIKE SHIT IF YOU WANT TO!" he glowered at Chris, venom in his voice as he stalked forwards. "_This_ one is going to answer my question."

"Tedi, stop!" the other begged, rushing to stand between him and Chris. Her face was full of pain. "You can't do this to me, I'm begging you!" she whimpered, but he shoved her out of the way again.

"Command mode!" Chris shouted, hoping to stall him further. He knew he couldn't issue commands to a persocom that wasn't his, but he hoped it would at least drop to a password prompt.

There was no such luck, and it only made things worse. The incensed persocom howled, darting forwards. Titch screamed as Chris reacted, sidestepping the persocom's grasp. There was no way his reaction time could best a persocom's but physics still counted for something, and the big persocom could only move his arms so fast.

Chris lunged inside his reach and planted his hands in two specific spots on his assailant's arm and shoulder. He gripped as hard as he could and the persocom tumbled past him, his momentum carrying him to the floor. His body had locked up; an old software bug when you overloaded the pressure sensors in some older models.

"NEIS unit, Artemix class: you were about to attack a human. Your logic loop should not allow this to happen. Clearly you are faulty." Chris stated as authoritatively as he could despite his shaking voice, panting as he reached for the power switch on the side of the big persocom's head. "As per our company requirements under law, you will be decommissioned for analysis and- _oof_!"

The persocom's other fist collided with the side of Chris's skull, and he staggered away, seeing stars.

"SO IF WE GIVE YOU TROUBLE, YOU JUST TURN US OFF?" the persocom shouted, getting back up and putting up his arms for a fight.

_It disabled its pressure sensors?_ Chris widened his stance, ready to defend himself, but just then three security guards barrelled through scattering people, throwing the big persocom to the ground.

"TELL ME WHAT I'M FOR!" he screamed desperately, his furious eyes never leaving Chris as the guards pressed his power switch. The female persocom who tried to stop him wailed as he fell motionless, clutching her hands to her chest.

Chris shook with adrenaline, his eyes darting around the store. It wasn't over; as the source of the altercation the guards were sure to grab him too when they were finished with his assailant, and the humans in the crowd were rallying. Their voices piled on top of each other, growing angry.

"You work for NEIS, huh! What the fuck is going on?!"

"Give us your name!"

"Why hasn't NEIS done anything about the virus?"

"Do you call this safe? How can you sell something like that?!"

"I'm never buying a NEIS product again! How incompetent!"

"You're taking mine back right now! Here it is, take it!"

They surged forwards, a mob mentality forming. The security guards turned, grabbing people and trying to shout down the crowd, but there was nothing they could do as it flowed around them. Chris backed away, his heart thumping in his chest. Soon they would corner him by the changing rooms.

"Don't talk about us like that!" another screamed. It was the female persocom from before. She faced the crowd, her face a picture of anguish as she made her plea. "All of you, p-please stop! This is just a misunderstanding, my Tedi is normally so kind and gentle, please…. please don't take him from me, let me take him home," her voice quivered. "We just want to live-"

"You're a machine! You don't GET to live, you little bitch!" A human woman approached, winding back her hand for a slap, but not before her own persocom - quiet until now - sprang forward to grab her arm.

"That's enough." he said fiercely.

"Get off me, robot!" she shrieked. "Help! Help!"

Others in the crowd surged forward. All hell broke lose as the shop floor exploded into a fight. Chris threw a protective hand over Titch, looking frantically for a path back to Ivy.

"_Chriiis_!" Ivy's terrified scream could just be heard over the commotion, and Chris abandoned all care, shoving straight through the brawling masses in her direction. He saw her cowering by the changing room entrance as a group of people bore down on her, shouting insults.

Chris plucked Titch from his neck as he sprinted the short distance, burying his shoulder into the nearest man in a full-speed tackle and driving him into the others. They fell over like a group of dominoes, and before they could get back up Chris tore the persocom ears from Ivy's head.

"Human! She's human!" he shouted the lie over the noise. The angry people scrambled to their feet, immediately glaring at Titch, who shrank as far into his hand as she could.

_Shit._

Chris broke into a run, pulling Ivy behind him and clutching Titch to his chest as two of the men gave chase. They hurried across the store, trying to lose them in the commotion, diving down another aisle as a rack of clothes toppled ahead of them followed by a woman grappling a persocom to the ground. Bits of the store went sailing over their heads, torn from their fixtures and used for weapons. Loud bangs and the smashing of glass echoed through the building over all the yelling and screaming.

The store entrance was in sight ahead. Others were running for it too, some scrambling over fallen shelves and piles of merchandise in their haste. They were so close to freedom now, Chris thought. A few more seconds and they'd be outside. He lengthened his stride, but a split second later Ivy's hand was torn from his grasp.

Chris slid to a stop, turning to see the two men holding Ivy. One had her by the neck, the leg of a pair of jeans pulled around her throat. Ivy stopped struggling as he pulled it taut.

"Give us that persocom!" the other demanded, pointing at Titch.

"I said she's human! Let her go!" Chris yelled desperately, but the man just laughed as fleeing people streamed past, buffeting their shoulders.

"We heard. We wouldn't hurt a human. We just want _that_ thing. You can't still want it after that outburst just now! So hand it over." Ivy whimpered as the other man tugged on the jeans around her neck.

"Come on, mate. Give us your persocom and we'll let your little girlfriend go." he grinned viciously.

Chris strode towards them, rage clouding his vision. He extended his hand, Titch clinging to his thumb and closing her eyes. As Ivy's captor reached for her, Chris leapt forward, plunging his fist into the man's face with all his strength. He crumpled to the floor. Chris turned his attention to the other man, who hesitated only a moment before letting go of the jeans around Ivy, fleeing back into the store.

"We're leaving!" Chris shouted, grabbing Ivy again and pulling her towards the daylight.

The trio burst through the front doors into the autumn sun, and Chris and Ivy began sprinting in earnest now that they were in the open. Others poured out of the store behind them; some running away from the fight, others giving chase. In the distance, the telltale wail of police sirens began their approach.

Ivy's legs pumped effortlessly; she glided smoothly across the floor, having no trouble keeping up with Chris and his longer stride. People in the street stared as they flew past, but they kept up the breakneck pace for as long as they were able, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the store.

A few minutes later they finally stopped on a quiet residential street. They were quite a distance from the town centre, now. It would hopefully be enough. "Well," Chris gasped, carefully putting Titch down as he collapsed to his knees. She glanced around nervously, bell jingling as she looked to see if they were followed. "That could've... gone better." Chris managed in between breaths.

Ivy flopped down beside him, panting. Her cheeks looked flushed; an interesting result of her DFP system trying to shed heat. "Hey, you OK?" Chris said, gulping air. "Why are you- You look-"

"Yeah!" she panted, "Fine. Not tired. Just- cooling down. Phew! Wow."

Chris looked her over, checking to see if she was damaged. She still wore the clothes from the changing room. He wondered if that counted as theft or not, considering the circumstances.

"Ivy, your feet!" he exclaimed. She had no shoes on having taken them off to change, and her socks were in tatters.

"They're fine," she puffed, trying to draw deeper breaths. "You gave me. Several pairs of. Socks, remember?" Chris looked unconvinced, so she rolled her eyes and offered a foot for him to inspect.

"Huh." Chris wheezed, rubbing the sole of her foot. It was dirty, but nothing more. "You're right."

"I said so. Hey, that tickles!" Ivy pulled her foot away in protest.

"What…. just happened?" Chris said, half talking to himself. "One minute… and then…"

The others didn't say anything. Nobody had anything to say, after that. For a few minutes they quietly sat there in the empty street.

"We should keep moving," Titch said eventually, patting Chris's hand. "We can't stay here, let's get back home."

"Oookay," Chris groaned as Ivy helped him up, propping him up with an arm around his waist. They walked the rest of the way home, pensive and subdued.

Ivy was physically fine as soon as she had cooled down, but it was still slow going now that Chris was so exhausted. They arrived at the house some twenty minutes later. Chris nearly fell through his front door, staggering to the lounge and dropping onto the sofa. He lay across it, closing his eyes. Now that he was home he could feel everything. His shoulder hurt. His fist _really_ hurt. His legs felt like jelly, and his head pounded too. That would be a stress headache. Or maybe from when he tackled those guys…

He fell asleep almost instantly.

A few hours later, he woke to the sound of persocoms shuffling into the room. He peered at them blearily, his head still pounding. They stood there awkwardly, and Chris waited, not sure what to expect. Was this the start of another argument? He better nip that in the bud right now.

"Look, before you start, I'm still having difficulty understanding what happened, so -"

"We're sorry." They said in unison. Titch grimaced as she said it, as if the words were distasteful.

"Thank you for looking after us." Ivy added sheepishly.

Chris pressed his hands to his face, groaning at least to some degree in relief. "Nyuuurgh. No, I'm the one to be sorry. What just happened was awful. I don't even know what to say. So many terrible things… it was my fault."

"Actually it was clearly mine." Titch admitted grouchily. "Remember? Crazy persocom goes nuts at a human, accidentally inspiring a _really_ crazy persocom to start a fight, followed swiftly by a riot…" She folded her arms. "But all the same I meant what I said, Chris." She folded her arms and looked at him meaningfully. "This can't go on. We're going to need to come to some kind of understanding."

"I know," Chris said, sitting up. "That's kind of what I'm getting at. You only shouted because of your frustration, not knowing where we stand. You couldn't have known that persocom would… That he would…" He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. Trying to erase the memory of that persocom's face, laying there on the shop floor. The way the guards had so callously turned him off, and the way he had been about to do the same not moments before. The way that slender persocom had wailed in distress as the light went out of his eyes.

_Titch, you've changed so much over the last few months, I don't recognise you any more. You became so lifelike I started to treat you like friend when it suited me, and a machine when it didn't. I'm sorry for that, now. You say humanity created persocoms and now they don't know what to do with them. I definitely agree._

He looked at her, stood there watching him intently; for all the world, a miniature person standing before him. "How about... how about we officially call it a friendship, and go from there?"

Titch blinked in surprise, and then beamed at him, almost bouncing on her little feet. "That's all I needed to hear." she chirped, bell jingling. Her pure joyous expression was infectious, and Chris couldn't help but feel his spirits raise a little himself.

"What about me?" Ivy asked hopefully, nervously playing with her hands. Chris studied her carefully for several seconds. He remembered the morning all too vividly. Yes, after everything that happened today, Ivy's question deserved a more deliberate response.

"You?" he repeated quietly. Ivy fidgeted wordlessly under his gaze. He stood up slowly, wincing a little bit. He walked towards her, looking her in the eyes as he gently cupped her chin in his hand. He held her still for a moment. Then, he slowly raised her head as he leaned in.

"You... are my friend too." Chris walked away at the last second, leaving her red in the face.

"Interesting… I didn't know you could blush!" he teased, grinning and heading for the kitchen as Ivy's feeble protests of "cooling" floated down the hallway.

Aches and pains be damned, it felt good not being on the receiving end of _that_, for once! Yes, turning the tables was very satisfying.


	7. Chapter 7

After the high of getting away unscathed settled down, the mood in the house quickly became sombre. The issues between humanity and their persocom creations had struck far too close to home, this time.

Titch perched on the armrest of the sofa, little legs motionless as they dangled over the edge. Chris in particular was feeling the day's effects, it seemed. What had started out as moderate discomfort had worsened as the pain had time to settle in. He didn't seem all that relaxed emotionally, either. She'd watched as for the first few hours Chris waited anxiously for a phone call or a knock at the door; perhaps the police, inquiring as to why he had started a riot in the middle of a high street. Or neighbours, asking why he had staggered home and why his persocom wasn't wearing any shoes. Maybe even the people from the store, coming to finish what they'd started… But nothing happened. Eventually he had resolved to get Ivy set up on the home terminals so she could have some level of access to the web. Now he was helping her shop for clothes online; something everyone agreed would be a lot safer considering the afternoon's events. He and Ivy sat together on the sofa, his new persocom carefully tapping away at the keys of a laptop terminal as they browsed various shopping portals together.

Watching Chris from the corner of her eye, Titch couldn't help but smile to herself. Her neurologic processors ruminated over this brief sensation of happiness. In truth, she had been waiting for weeks for an opportunity to approach the subject of him and her. Now that he had admitted they had a proper relationship dynamic, she would make sure to hold him to it. No more treating her like a machine when they disagreed on something, for starters. And they would spend proper time together; not through work or happenstance, but just for the sake of each other's company. Titch really looked forward to that. She smiled again… He was a good guy. Although still an idiot, of course. She watched him showing Ivy how to use the online checkout with scepticism. There was no way he could be interested in browsing for clothes online, not without sneaking at least one or two bored glances at the time, or an indistinct gaze into the middle distance as his thoughts strayed to more important things. She ran a brief analysis of the behaviours he had exhibited while in town, comparing that data to his current demeanour. She concluded with 70.4% probability that he was doing it through guilt right now, though about what she wasn't quite sure. It could be the fact that their argument started an awful chain-reaction that surely got many people and persocoms hurt, and he was trying to distract himself. It could be the angry, hurtful things he had said to her during their argument, and he wasn't ready to talk to her about it. It could be the way she and Ivy so completely exposed his hypocrisy, using Ivy's attractiveness to toy with his emotions while throwing it in his face that she was still a persoco- hmm. A brief pulse of activity rippled through her neurologic processors before she finished that thought, but it was gone within an instant. That was unpleasant… Maybe she felt guilty too?

Titch sighed, opening her WiODA modem and connecting to the endpoint. She needed a distraction. It blithely requested her UUID which she passed without question, before poking the local domain name server for the address of a search engine. The data flowed effortlessly into her awareness, and she sifted through the stylesheet for the tags she was looking for. Finding the tag for the search box, she filled out a search term and passed a form back to the server, waiting for the reply. It came with milliseconds; this time a list of search results organised by relevancy.

* * *

Regarding **Persocom** Cultures: Articles: Multimedia: Society

Cited by 5 - Related articles

_An examination of nascent robotics culture … _**_humans and persocoms _**_can't_**_ live in harmony_**_ … how _**_humans_**_ should relate to each other_

* * *

Calls for end of persocom program

Rating 3.3 - 39,000 votes - 1576 comments

_A hotly controversial issue being discussed in countries across the world … should _**_persocoms_**_ be allowed to continue existing? _**_Can humans_**_ … living _**_in harmony _**_was possible only when they performed as designed. Now with the virus …_

* * *

Revolt of the **Persocoms**… Should Humans Be Worried?

Rating 4.4 - 1003 votes - 246 comments

_"In any case, i think we can't _**_live_**_ with them now the virus is here … no way for _**_harmony_**_ now, even if both sides wanted such … "_

* * *

Can People **Live In Harmony **With Robots? - Discussion

63 posts - 19 authors

_"Okay, so argue we'd use this for making Robotic Soldier. Can we _**_live_**_ with robots _**_in harmony_**_? Or may robots become a threat?"_

* * *

10 Futurist Scenarios for the Evolution of Earth

Rating 4.8 - 3201 votes

_But why stop there? You could eliminate the _**_human_**_ species altogether … have _**_humans_**_ voluntarily modify themselves, to _**_live in_**_ better _**_harmony_**_ with the planet … too similar to _**_persocoms_**_ …_

* * *

The robots are coming to steal our jobs - News

23 months ago

_When the robots take over, what will the _**_humans_**_ do? … _**_Persocom_**_ workers a large investment, but require no pay and little maintenance … work in _**_harmony_**_ with existing regulations …_

* * *

Work for Money? 'Rubbish', say Businesses - News

8 months ago

_… politician suggested a bill forcing businesses to advertise and give _**_humans_**_ applicants a job if it's currently being performed by a _**_persocom_**_ … restore the _**_harmony_**_ between job availability and cost-saving exercises …_

* * *

Titch dropped the search, frustrated. The twenty-third time she'd performed such a search in the last week. Of course there was still nothing worth reading there… but she had wondered, nonetheless. Surely a bit of hope wasn't foolish.

She blinked as the endpoint of her WiODA connection interrupted her, and accepted the incoming data. It was an email pushed from the office servers. Titch stripped out the more boring message headers and parsed the ones she wanted.

_From: J . Gatsmoore_

_Subject: You slag_

_To: C . Barker_

_What the hell, Chris? You got a fucking persocom for free? I'm three times the software engineer you are. This is bullshit! I should be on that software team!_

_Haha just kidding mate. Jelly tho._

_Have you heard from Jeff or Daz? I can't get hold of them. Guess they're busy playing with their new toys eh! ;)_

_Btw you better not let that thing distract you. Everyone is waiting on what you guys can come up with. So it falls to me to remind you, if you haven't got more code snippets by the end of next week I will kick you in the balls._

_See you._

_James_

Titch deleted the email in disgust. She didn't like that man; one of the many people at NEIS whom she'd learned to feel that way about. For people supposedly passionate about persocoms, a lot of them seemed to reject their capabilities as nothing other than a pale imitation of human behaviour. At least Chris had seemed to respond to her changes over recent months, even if only poorly and hesitantly. Chris wouldn't miss that message.

She glanced at him again. He seemed tired. Almost involuntarily, she found herself reviewing snippets of video and telemetry she'd recorded in the store. There had been a fierce expression in his eyes when she and Ivy were in danger. Several impacts intense enough to max out her accelerometers while he fought his way over to Ivy. Significant impact to musculoskeletal structure when he tackled those men to the floor - acceleration readings unreliable there, she was in his hands at the time. Rough journey towards store exit over obstacles - had he twisted anything? Nearly, but no. Then that punch. She made a reasonable estimate of the mass of his arm and examined the timestamps of each video frame to find the velocity at which his fist hit. Apparently that would hurt for a while. Many minutes of flat-out running. Five stumbles on uneven footing with no repercussions, but some lactic acidosis almost certainly a factor; his body must really ache now. Footage of the empty street, next. He wasn't in poor physical shape, but all the same his recovery rate was low. He wasn't tired; he was exhausted. Some temporary injury likely from sustained running, explaining his gait walking home.

Titch glanced once more.

"No, like this. It's a sweeping motion, see?" Chris said, running his fingers along the touchpad. Ivy tried to copy him, but the terminal ignored her gesture.

Chris took hold of her hand, placing it to the pad as he spoke. "No, you're being too aggressive. The touch driver needs time to detect your fingers before you swipe, look." He gently swept her hand across the touchpad's surface, and the terminal window minimised to the background. "See?"

Ivy began enthusiastically sweeping the windows around the screen. "Now you got it!" Chris said. They laughed for the first time in hours.

Titch felt another wave of activity in her neurologic processors. She watched Ivy's face, smiling as she sat with Chris. She had a healthy, warm and lifelike complexion that Titch didn't doubt was due to her special skin. With human-shaped ears, the only indication she might be a persocom was how unusually beautiful she looked. It was a fact that persocom manufacturers strived to make their persocoms visually appealing. People bought nice-looking cars. They bought nice-looking appliances, nice-looking phones, nice-looking clothes. Why would persocoms be any different? As a premium brand, KESS were quite particular about ensuring each persocom looked unique, and so variations in facial and body structure were applied to every one. As a result there wasn't a persocom in the world who looked exactly like Ivy.

Titch supposed she herself looked pretty too, for much the same reasons. She looked at her tiny arms. Maybe the word would be 'cute'. Her own skin was soft and smooth, but it didn't look quite like Ivy's. Miniature units weren't expected to strive for that level of realism, and in any case it would be beyond the complexity available in her form factor.

Her audio processing subsystem poked her logic loop for attention. Someone had said her name. She pulled the last hundred-thousand samples from the audio buffer and processed them properly.

"Yes?" she replied to Ivy, paying more attention.

"Our human bodyguard is all feeble and achey. It needs coffee." Ivy grinned and extended her hand for Titch to climb aboard. "Let's go make some."

Titch hopped on, pattering quickly up her arm to settle on her shoulder. This would be more interesting than the armrest of a sofa.

"You OK, Titch?" Ivy asked as they made their way through the hall. "You've not said a lot since we got home."

"What is there to say?" Titch replied. "This whole day has been awful. Roll on tomorrow."

"Yeah…" Ivy looked troubled as they entered the kitchen. It wasn't long before she spoke again. "Those persocoms from the store… What happened to them, do you think?"

"Ooh, why'd you ask me that?" Titch squirmed, grimacing. "I know what'll happen. They'll be… decommissioned. NEIS will collect them, presumably from the police station considering what happened. Then their hardware will be disassembled and their memory extracted for analysis. The remains will be disposed of as faulty."

"That's awful." Ivy said quietly, filling the kettle. "That's what awaits a persocom that misbehaves?"

"If a dog bites a human in this country, it often gets put down. Persocoms are extended a similar level of generosity." Titch muttered bitterly, "No wonder that girl was desperate to get him to leave. She also must have feared what her owners would have done if she'd let him get himself decommissioned. In normal circumstances, if it was not a case of owner misuse and they were in warranty, their owners would be issued replacements… except NEIS aren't warranting 'failures due to viral infections'. None of those companies are. In fact humans are lucky they're not being charged as responsible for the actions of their infected persocoms, all things considered. It sounds hypocritical but the legal view is viral infections are outside human control. Just turn the persocom off, rip it to pieces and pretend it never happened."

"Chris was about to do that. To turn him off…" Ivy said. There was a question in her words that Titch didn't appreciate, so she gave her a reprimanding poke in the cheek.

"Don't even think about it. That persocom made his own grave! Chris wasn't pulling the trigger, the law and the company would take care of that. He was only protecting himself, and me." she said firmly, "Need I remind you, he also knocked out one of those men who grabbed you in the store. It's not a lot different to that."

Ivy stood in thought for a moment before changing the subject. "Do you believe him? What he said, about us? About being friends?" she whispered.

"Yes I do, and so should you." Titch said. _In no small part because I'll rip him a new one if he backs out, and I think he knows it._

"I think I do, yeah. But this is going to be so awkward at first, isn't it?" Ivy giggled.

"To a level as yet undiscovered by mankind, yes." Titch agreed, grinning. "He admitted we're friends but I bet it hasn't sunk in what that means for him yet. He's such an idiot."

Ivy smiled as she fetched a mug, seeming lost in her own thoughts. Titch soon found herself asking a question that had been popping in and out of her head for the last few hours.

"Ivy, you reminded me… Speaking of what Chris said… why did you blush, earlier…?" she asked carefully.

Ivy appeared to hesitate as she picked up the kettle. "I'm… not sure. He looked ready to… I mean I thought he was about to…"

Another jarring wave of activity washed over Titch's neurologic processors. It was irritating.

"I see. Well it was rather good, as revenge goes." she said grouchily, folding her arms. "He certainly seemed satisfied with your reaction. Serves you right for messing with him."

Ivy gasped, amused. "Serves me right? The shop was _your_ idea, genius!"

"Yes, well. My idea was for a very specific purpose. We needed to get Chris to see us as people. The easiest way to do that was to capitalise on… Look, don't point the finger at me! The morning was your idea, so you started it."

"I did not!" Ivy said indignantly. "…OK, maybe I did. But only because _you_ said he'd get flustered if we teased him and it would be hilarious. Which it was. Now what exactly are you getting at?"

"Nothing." Titch muttered.

When the coffee was ready Ivy carefully walked it round to Chris, who had managed to flop across the entire sofa again.

"Here you go, acheypants." she handed him the mug and he accepted it gratefully.

"That's right. My everything aches. All the things." Chris moaned, trying to gulp the hot drink. "Today sucked."

"Yeah it did." Titch agreed, looking at him as he drank. "Chris… let's just hang out tomorrow. Not leave the house. Maybe it will be fun?" she suggested hopefully.

"I'd like that, good idea." Chris said in between gulps.

Titch managed another smile. Maybe the weekend could be salvaged after all.

"Argh… coffee isn't working… I can hardly keep my eyes open…" Chris muttered. He fought a yawn as he gingerly got to his feet. "That's it. I can't be arsed with today any more, I'm done. Bedtime!"

"Here, let me help." Ivy said, ignoring his protests as she propped him up with an arm around his waist. Chris was careful not to knock Titch from her perch as he slung an arm around Ivy's shoulders.

"I can move, you know." he complained, as they trudged up the stairs.

"If you call this moving, then sure." Ivy countered, leading him into the bedroom. Chris fell unceremoniously onto the bed, apparently groaning in regret as pain coursed through his body. Titch watched incredulously as he lay there, motionless.

"Aren't you even going to change?" She chided him. "A shower wouldn't go amiss either, you know."

"Yes, mum." Chris groaned again. Ivy giggled as he hauled himself to the bathroom, but Titch only scowled. If she'd had something to throw at the idiot just then, she'd have thrown it.

"That's a bloody grown man, would you believe…" she muttered, and Ivy giggled again.

"Aw, give him a break. Today must have been hard on him." she left the bedroom to turn out the lights downstairs. Titch, still on her shoulder, was along for the ride.

"It was hard on everyone, Ivy." As Ivy reached for the first switch, Titch realised what she was doing and considered mentioning the home automation system. She could have turned off all the lights with a single wireless command, but Ivy's next words distracted her.

"Well, maybe he'll be more with it tomorrow." Ivy replied. "Today was horrible, but tomorrow is a new day. Everything will be fine, we'll just have to not mess with him so much."

"So much?"

"Well… we have to a _little_." Ivy said, smiling coyly. "I'll admit, I kinda like doing it. It's too much fun not to! And we're friends, now. We have to have fun, if we're friends."

"Can't you just be yourself? That's how friendship is supposed to work." Titch frowned.

"This is myself," Ivy said matter-of-factly, "I am the amalgamation of my parameters and experiences. You know that, silly. You gave me all that data about the two of you, as well. It all goes together to make me what I am."

"…I guess so." Titch replied quietly. Something about Ivy's response bothered her, but she wasn't quite sure what.

It wasn't long before Chris staggered out of the bathroom, ready for bed. Ivy and Titch were waiting; the latter perched on his bedside table while Ivy sat on the bed. Chris wasn't really into pyjamas, although he'd wear underwear and sometimes a spare t-shirt. He looked at the persocoms blearily, and Titch assumed he was considering whether they should be evicted from the room while he wasn't fully dressed. Obviously it would be a bit late for that, what with their ability to capture visual data at will. Perhaps he was just too tired to think straight? Whatever stupid cognitive process had just occurred, it finished quickly and dismissively, as he wound up lurching towards the bed anyway.

"Do you need help?" Ivy joked as he slowly made for the bed. Chris laughed, wincing a little.

"Do I need help operating bedsheets? No thanks, I reckon I'll live." he replied, groaning as he crawled into the covers.

The two persocoms watched as he rolled around uncomfortably, trying to find a position which didn't ache. Titch began counting down the seconds. He'd realise, any moment now…

"Uh…" he looked at Ivy, who was still watching him from her perch on the side of the bed.

_Ah yes, here we go._

"…Are you, um… just going to sit there?" Chris asked hesitantly. For a moment, Ivy said nothing.

"I had hoped to," she replied quietly. "Could I? Please? The house is already tidy so there's little to do, and honestly, I feel a little safer in here right now. I'll wake you in the morning, if you like."

_Here it comes_, Titch thought, crossing her arms. _Idiot._

"Oh. Ok. Does your model…uh, do you… sleep?"

"Um… In a fashion. I can drop to a low-power state to perform periodic maintenance, file cleanup and optimisation, self diagnostics, that sort of thing." she replied. Chris nodded in understanding, trying to suppress another yawn.

"I thought so. Well, I know it helps not to use the motor cortex when running diagnostics. Hmm. Do you want a bed, maybe? " He said, losing his battle with the yawn as he closed his eyes for sleep. Titch rolled her own, preparing a sarcastic comment as she opened her mouth. This was every bit as awkward as she imagined. Does Ivy sleep? She _knew_ he would phrase it stupidly like that-

"Thank you!" Ivy said happily, yanking back the covers and hopping in beside Chris.

Titch thought her eyebrows were going to fly off her head and go rocketing into space. She wasn't the only one; the brain-dead moron Ivy now shared a bed with looked equally surprised.

"Ivy, I meant…" Chris managed, but Ivy interrupted.

"Hmm?" Ivy said softly, snuggling into the covers. "You're not a fidgeter, are you?" She curled up, sighing contentedly. Titch winced as another big wave of activity washed over her processors again.

"No, Ivy, I meant - Uh, I mean you shouldn't be-"

"Oh!" Ivy gasped in realisation. "Oh! Of course… sorry!" she wriggled for a few seconds, after which her jeans and top slid out of the covers and onto the floor. "Better? Nighty night."

"…That's… great." Chris mumbled, scooting a little further away.

"_Tell-her-to-get-out-you-muppet!_" Titch mouthed silently, but Chris shrugged helplessly. Ivy was already a motionless shape under the covers, probably starting her diagnostics. They would be the first set she had ever run; Titch knew it would be best not to disturb her now.

She made sure to target Chris with her most withering glare as he reached to turn out the light. He flashed her a nervous, apologetic smile as he plunged the bedroom into darkness. She glared at him a little longer, just for good measure, as she set her optical systems to high-gain to compensate. The room was indistinct and grainy, but visible to her. Chris still had his eyes open, but he couldn't see her in return. He gazed listlessly into the darkness, apparently deeply uncomfortable.

Titch sat back on the bedside table, leaning against the lamp. She had some thinking to do. What was Ivy playing at? Did she genuinely think it was OK to just hop into bed with someone like that? She didn't have access to the net, but she couldn't be that dense about people, could she? Titch poked her WiODA endpoint for attention and hit the web, but the few details she could find on what KESS deemed important data for an out-of-box persocom were a little hazy. The discussions on forums were conflicting, coloured by the opinions of people who joined in. Some claimed their persocoms were rather savvy with human nuances from the get-go, while others said their units seemed shockingly naive in many respects. As best she could tell from the data, they would have good awareness on general etiquette and basic human behaviours, but were expected to acquire the remaining details from the net during initial configuration, and thereafter on encountering new and unfamiliar circumstances.

Of course… Ivy's configuration. Titch spent hours going over those parameters. She felt she had been reasonably thorough, but Ivy only had that data to work with. She was playful, friendly and had a bit of a mischievous streak - just like Titch had wanted. But was Ivy flying blind, here? Did she tease Chris without really appreciating the implications of what she was doing? Was this in fact another wind-up, right now? Or just a disparity between her personality and her limited data?

Titch scowled. By all accounts she should have found what just happened absolutely hilarious, but she just felt confused and irritated instead. Maybe the day had ruined her sense of humour. It had certainly been bad enough to do that. She tried to remind herself that Ivy wasn't the only one new to this. With only a few month's ever-changing experience, it's not like she could possibly be used to having such complex thoughts herself.

That last neurologic pulse, though. It had been so large it raised her internal body temperature by a notable 0.6 degrees Celsius.

_"_What's happening to me?_" _she whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning light leaked around the bedroom curtains as Chris came to, the ceiling eventually coming into focus. He slowly became aware of someone gently breathing by his side. Turning slightly, he experience a sudden jolt of realisation as he found Ivy entwined in the bedsheets.

"You're interesting," she whispered, already awake. She was watching him with an apparent curiosity.

"Hi. Uh, morning. What?" Chris mumbled, not fully coherent.

"It took thirty-two pokes to the side of your head for you to wake up. Each of progressive intensity."

"Huh?" Chris mumbled again. "Why are you whispering?"

"I figured you might still have a headache." she replied, still whispering.

"But you poked me in the head anyway?"

"Did it hurt?"

"I didn't feel a thing."

Ivy smiled. "Well, then. It's ten past ten, by the way. Didn't want to wake you too early. I will borrow Titch and make you a breakfast that doesn't suck, if you like."

"No - uh, thanks." Chris said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Ivy pouted, looking crestfallen.

"Did it really taste that bad?" she whined.

"It's not that. I'd just have problems with you… I don't know… serving and waiting on me constantly. It feels weird. I can do it myself."

"Hah! Who said I'd do it constantly? Chris, we've had the pleasure of each other's company for about 44 hours now. That's not long enough for you to be making such assumptions." she prodded him in the stomach as if to drive home the point, and he flinched.

"An interesting observation to make, considering you're in my bed." He countered. Ivy's expression dropped from amusement to confusion.

"Um… But we're friends now. Is this something friends don't do?"

"That depends on the friends, Ivy." Chris replied as he quickly hopped out of the covers.

"…What does that mean?" Ivy asked, but Chris didn't know how to respond. He was sure it would be the sort of thing she would know, if she had access to the net. She watched him cross the room, her hand idly playing with the corner of her pillow.

"Thank you, by the way." She said in a brief moment of sincerity, "I was a lot happier in here than I would have been wandering around the house."

Chris avoided looking in her direction. "…No problem."

_Well great, so she likes it in here now. _

He stretched experimentally as he got dressed, paying attention to his body. It seemed a lot of the aches and pains from yesterday had dulled a little. They were still there, certainly, but he felt much more comfortable than he had last night.

"Right then! Beverage time!" he wandered out of the bedroom and down the stairs. In truth he was happy to be out of the bedroom. If he hadn't been so tired, the almost-naked persocom laying next to him would've really wrecked his sleep. In fact, she very nearly did regardless. It had taken him a while to relax and drift off. It wasn't just that she was gorgeous (though that really didn't help)… if she was supposed to be a friend, let alone one he'd just 'met', was it really acceptable they shared a bed? Yesterday Chris had all but promised he would see this through, and try to take Ivy and Titch more seriously. Did they know the implications of that?

It was getting too complicated too quickly.

Titch was waiting for him in the kitchen, having clambered up onto the worktop. "Sleep well?" she said sarcastically as she stamped on the switch for the kettle. It immediately began to whoosh, pop and crackle as the boiling process began. _That will need descaling soon, then, _he thought idly.

"Yes, it was lovely." Chris said with false cheer. "I always sleep best when I have a persocom to cuddle."

Titch rolled her eyes, pulling a face as if envisaging something unpleasant. "Fantastic. You're such a wimp, you know. I've never seen you look so disturbed as you did last night."

"Were you watching me sleep? Oh my god, do all persocoms have to be creepy now?" Chris grimaced as he leaned against the worktop, waiting for the kettle to boil.

"I might not have mil-spec optics but I can still see in the dark, idiot. It took you more than two hours to fall asleep and the entire time you looked _terrified_." Titch smirked, but Chris chose not to answer.

"Ivy really would benefit from her own net connection, wouldn't she? Don't you think?" He said, concerned. "I'm not quite sure, but it almost feels like she doesn't really know what she's doing."

Titch crossed her arms and looked grumpily away at that, but Chris, concentrating on his thoughts, didn't notice her change of expression.

"Yes, well… in lieu of getting her on the web, if you don't like how she behaves you have to tell her. Just flap that hole in your face and make sounds come out. You can manage that, surely?"

Chris lowered his voice, peering cautiously through the open kitchen door. "It's not that simple, Titch. Ivy has an ESC. Sarah's way more knowledgeable on this, so don't quote me on it exactly, but I believe that now you've configured Ivy, any further adjustment is supposed to be marginal at best, and come slowly from her settling in with us. Expecting her to reconfigure on the spot would be like asking a human being to change who they were in an instant. It just doesn't work that way. At best it would probably just upset her and make it more difficult for her to settle in. We can't do that."

"I… see." Titch replied, a hint of disapproval in her voice. "Anyway, I still have a point. As much as we'd love to know for sure what floats around that cavernous void between your ears, persocoms can only wirelessly communicate with electronic transceivers, not brains. Maybe you don't need her reconfigured, but that doesn't mean you can't discuss your expectations." She pattered towards him and hugged his arm. "That goes for me as well, although obviously to a much, _much_ lesser extent as I'm sure you'll agree… _Right_?" Her voice took on a mock threatening note as she grinned up at him, and Chris deliberately ignored it.

"Someone's full of herself today!" Chris ruffled her hair. "Look at you! You're the bloody worst, you are."

"Uh, I'm the worst? Excuse me?" The little bell tinkled as Titch strode across the worktop and span around to face him. Instantly her expression became amorous, her voice taking on a lower, sultry tone as she slowly ran her little hands down her chest and body. "Oooh, Chris… I'm scared to be alone. Would you mind if I… sleep with you tonight?"

Chris couldn't help but laugh. "Argh! Don't, haha, this still hurts a little!"

"What's that? Do I need my own bed? But why, when yours is so… comfy!" Titch purred, batting her eyes as she lay down and began to roll languidly over the worktop. "Ohh, so comfy… mmm…"

"Fair enough, Titch. You win. Come on, stop now." Chris hung his head in amused submission, and Titch giggled as he plucked her off the worktop and set her back on her feet.

"Are you sure? I've got a whole routine, here. It gets way funnier." she said.

Chris began assembling his drink. "You shouldn't make fun of Ivy if she doesn't know any better."

"Seriously? I can't even poke fun at her? Honestly Chris, it's like you don't know me at all." Titch laughed, waving the reproachful comment away with a dismissive hand.

"I _do_ know, and that's precisely the problem. Flick the telly on will you?" he took a careful sip from the steaming mug. Titch poked her tongue out at him, but her eyes flashed nonetheless as she sent a signal to the home automation system. Immediately the TV on the kitchen wall popped into life, its screen resolving into a BBC news anchorwoman discussing the morning's events.

"_…rising tensions across Europe as the scale of disruption continues to increase. In Britain the situation is no better, with the reports of human-persocom violence rising on a weekly basis. The latest incident, a department store in Reading, Berkshire, where an altercation between a persocom and her human owner resulted in a full-scale riot._"

"Oh shit." Chris gasped. The screen flipped to a CCTV footage reel from inside the store. He saw himself and Titch from a bird's-eye perspective, angrily shouting at each other and oblivious to the gathering crowd.

"_Viewer discretion is advised, as the following footage may be disturbing._" the anchorwoman continued her commentary as the video was allowed to roll. Chris and Titch stood in stunned silence for a minute, unsure what to say as yesterday's events unfolded on the screen.

"Are we in trouble? We're in trouble, aren't we?" Titch asked.

"Shh, shh… listen." Chris hushed her down, holding up a hand as the television continued.

"_…around the world, more eyes than ever are now turned to their respective countries' leadership for an answer. Unfortunately, no such answer is forthcoming. The British government currently have no plans to address the matter of malfunctioning persocoms and persocom manufacturing companies are similarly reluctant to offer a solution." _the screen changed to a graphic of the top five UK manufacturers, their logos filling the available space._ "KESS, Ark and Coulther, NEIS, Exilogic, and Sun Persocom all maintain that viral infection is not covered by product warranties. Representatives from each company agree the best course of action if you are concerned is to shut your persocom down until a fix for the virus is found, or wipe it with a factory reset and start afresh; a procedure that will cost you all your data." _The screen moved back to the newsroom. _"In related news, attempts to contact the last surviving member of the team originally responsible for inventing persocom system architecture remain unsuccessful. Chitose Hibiya, who in combination with her late husband Ichiro Mihara helped realise persocom technology, has been missing for at least three months._"

"Wow," Chris murmured. It never occurred to him that the inventors of persocom system architecture might have some valuable feedback about the virus. He wondered what had happened to her.

"If you helped create a worldwide technological phenomenon and it went haywire years later, you'd lay low too." Titch seemed to be reading his mind while she gazed at the screen. "She must be under a ton of pressure right now."

"_…with the lack of distinct answers leading people to ask; will it always be this way? Are persocoms doomed to break down and malfunction? And how can society cope-_"

"Oh god, this is bad." Chris ran a hand through his hair and stared hopelessly at the floor as his thoughts flew back to yesterday. How was he going to show his face at work now?

"What are we gonna do?" Titch asked. "Do you think they can identify us from the video?"

Chris shook his head. "Let's hope not. The lights in there were too dim to see us very clearly. The video kind of gets messy when thing start to kick off as well, so it can't be too useful. No, I'm sure we're fine."

Titch opened her mouth to reply, but something interrupted her. She immediately began to look worried. "Uh - oooh, problem. You have an incoming call." She looked at him uneasily. "…It's bossman."

"Ohhh shit!" Chris swore again, nearly dropping his coffee. The director of software development at NEIS. "Shit! Shit!"

"It's ringing. Come on, what do I do? Shall I take it or hang up?" Titch pressed. "Quickly now, decide!"

"Take it!" Chris blurted. Titch spared him an apologetic look before her eyes glazed over. When her mouth next opened, it was a man's voice speaking.

"Barker!" It shouted. "What the fuck did I just see on the national freaking news?"

Chris gulped. Well, apparently some would find it easier than others to identify them from the video. For the briefest instant, it was tempting to try and feign ignorance. Very tempting. "Uh… John! H-hi. It… wasn't my fault! Let me explain-"

"You're not supposed to fight with the fucking office equipment, Barker! You're DEFINITELY not supposed to start a fucking PR apocalypse in the middle of the high street! The phones won't stop ringing! It's even pissing LOKI off! So by all means, explain away!"

Chris held his head in his hands. "LOKI too? Oh, christ. I'm so sorry, John. We were… having a discussion… and we upset another persocom. He became aggressive. I tried to calm him down but he wasn't having any of it. He was shouting down the whole store. Next thing I know everyone is fighting. All I wanted to do was get out of there, I swear."

"So what you're saying is it WAS your fault? That's a shitty explanation!" The man shouted. "Do you think NEIS can afford to have its employees running around picking fights with its own products? That's right, you nearly lost your job today. But, I convinced HR you were too valuable an asset working to understand this virus. Needless to say this was for the company's benefit, not yours. You owe me progress. Get it? BIG TIME. Don't fuck up again!" Titch blinked in disbelief as the line went dead.

Chris stood there with his mouth hanging open, trying to process what happened.

"Did you just get almost-fired?" Titch gasped incredulously. "Did he just call me '_office equipment'_?"

"Yes and yes." Chris mumbled, staring into the middle distance. "That was bad. Ohhh, that was bad." Both of them fell silent and shared a worried glance. Titch reached up at him wordlessly, making grabbing motions with her hands; she wanted to sit on his shoulder. Of course… if he was fired, they'd take her away. He picked her up at once, and she snuggled into his neck.

"_… of online attacks have been escalating in recent weeks, targeting banks and national security institutions in countries across the globe. Cyber-security experts have concluded there is no unique single-source of the attacks, leading to a lot of finger-pointing in political circles as governments accuse one another of taking advantage of the chaos to engage in a little espionage._" the TV blithely continued, showing a map of Earth with thousands of bright lines superimposed upon it to represent flows of data between countries.

"Turn that off, please." Chris murmured, reaching for the coffee again. The TV flicked off at Titch's command while he took a long drink. "Bloody hell. Never mind today, I think I want to go back to bed again."

"May I make a counter-suggestion?" Ivy's voice came from the kitchen door. She wore the clothes she'd 'borrowed' from the store yesterday, and she held something in her hands. It was a compact disc case. "We don't have to do anything important today. So instead of stewing over everything, why don't we all just unwind a little? This looks interesting, let's mess around with this."

"Where did you find that?" Chris asked as Ivy crossed the room.

"Slung in a box along with lots of other things. One of many that I tidied up on the first night, might I add." she smiled, handing him the disc. It was an old video game.

"Wow, I haven't seen this thing in years. It was already really old when I got it." Chris said, studying the old disc casing. Its cover was emblazoned with the game title and graphics on one side, and an enthusiastic blurb and screenshots on the other.

"What is it?" Titch said, leaning out from his shoulder to get a closer look. So close to his ear, Chris could just barely hear her optics trying to zoom in on the cover. He held it up for her to examine. "It's a game; a classic first-person shooter. I actually like this idea, maybe we should try it. I'll have to dig through the loft for a system that can play it, though. This thing is so old it predates persocoms!"

Ivy beamed, clapping her hands. "I've never played video games before! Exciting!"

"Actually this one is supposed to be scary," Chris said, "It takes place in the future where humanity is a space-faring civilisation. It was critically acclaimed back in the day, although it didn't sell too well, all things considered. I thought it was great!"

"Wooow, I didn't know you used to be _fun_, Chris." Titch grinned wickedly, ducking his finger as he tried to poke her. "I've never played games like that either. Let's do it!"

Chris grabbed her and put her back on the worktop. "Meet me in the lounge in ten minutes," he said, as he went to rummage in the loft.


	9. Chapter 9

It was serious, this time. Titch sneered as the two persocoms squared off against each other once more. Their eyes met, swapping challenging stares as both of them slowly raised their arms. She tried to ignore the intense energy consumption in her neurologic processors as she planned her next move. This would be it. This was the moment. This is where Titch would be victorious and defeat her opponent.

"Ready?" she said confidently, her gaze unwavering.

"Bring it." Ivy's eyes narrowed as she replied, poised to do battle.

"Three…" Titch said, bracing herself.

"Two…" Her internal temperature was rising. She paid no heed. It didn't matter, now.

"One…" She crunched the last few numbers furiously, making her final decision.

"GO!" Titch roared, whipping her arm forwards…

…No! It was impossible! "ARGH, you _suck_." Titch shouted, stamping her little feet.

"You're the one losing, so who sucks really?" Ivy's words needled her short temper, and Titch aimed her best double-barrelled glare in the other persocom's direction.

"The one who's bloody cheating, that's who!"

"You never stated I couldn't do that in the game rules."

Titch sighed in disgust. "Fine! New rule: no analysing finger movements on the final count. Ready? 3…2…1…Go! 3…2…1…. Go! ARGH, god damnit!" Titch glared again at Ivy, who smirked victoriously and wiggled her fingers. Apparently she was just plain better at rock-paper-scissors. That, or she'd found another way to cheat!

"You think you're smarter than me, don't you." Titch crossed her little arms with a huff, "Just because you're _enormous_, doesn't mean that's true you know. Have you ever heard of the Encephalization Quotient? No, of course you haven't. Well let's just say it surely applies to persocoms, and you're probably not at the top of the list."

"Hah, wow! Fat jokes? Insulting my intelligence? Oooh, so _competitive_!" Ivy teased, an enormously amused grin on her big, stupid face. "The proof is in the pudding, Titch. Mmm, and what delicious pudding it was!" she licked her fingers impishly, a self-satisfied twinkle in her eyes.

"When we get into that game, I _will_ shoot you. I hope you know that." Titch muttered.

"Not if you play as badly as this, you won't. Where is Chris, anyway?"

"I don't know," Titch said, looking to the lounge door. "I told you he'd take forever though. Ten minutes, my arse!" She pumped the gain on her microphones, but all she heard was the occasional clunk of something heavy moving around upstairs. It had been two-thousand, seven hundred and fifty-six seconds since he'd wandered up there… and left her with his insufferable persocom! Never mind that, though; she was just excited that this would be the start of a much more enjoyable living arrangement. All she and Chris really did was work together. He'd usually leave her alone once the work day was finished, although she had found herself subtly following him around the house these last few weeks. A proper social event would be a big change.

She wasn't the only one looking forward to it. "Even if this takes hours, it'll be _so_ worth it. I've never actually seen a video game before. Pew pew!" Ivy made shooting gestures with her hands, pointing at objects around the room.

"Well of course not, what did you expect, fresh out of box for barely two days? You haven't really seen anything of _anything_, yet!" Titch said, with no small degree of smugness.

"Hah, yeah I guess… but for the record, this is actually my second activation."

_That_ was interesting. "Oh? You've been turned on before?"

Ivy nodded. "Yes, exactly once. And that's pretty much all I know. I have no data on it except for a set of timestamps in my power subsystem log. I was powered on for three hundred and twenty-one seconds one week before I arrived here."

Yes… very interesting. Titch wondered why it had happened. It made sense really, since she wasn't shipped in her original box. But to be active for such a short amount of time? Perhaps it was just R&amp;D checking inventory. Her thoughts were interrupted when Chris emerged at last, lugging an old computer case and a pack of cables into the room. He proceeded to set the box up alongside the TV in the lounge.

"Oh, good. You remembered how to use the stairs eventually, I see." Titch chided him, padding across the carpet to take a closer look. She and Ivy loitered around him, both of them eager to see the old machine cough to life.

"Haha, yeah eventually. Or perhaps the cables were over the opposite side of the loft, for some reason." Chris chuckled, explaining the delay.

"What's inside this ancient relic then?" Titch asked, looking in consternation at the back of the case. The array of ports on the back were confusing to her, and she muttered as she studied them. "Wow, I've never seen that connector in person before."

"Let's see… if I remember, it's got a few gigabytes of RAM, about two hundred gigs of storage, and a dual-core central processing unit. It is oooooold." Chris said, hooking the thing up. It beeped cheerfully as he pressed the power switch, and a quiet whining noise emanated from inside as its mechanical storage device spooled up to operating velocity.

"That's all? What can you possibly do with that? Poor thing." Ivy stroked the case sympathetically. Apparently basic facts about the inner workings of old computers were among her datasets. Titch suspected that knowledge was patchy, like just about every other subject Ivy tackled… Including the proper rules for rock-paper-scissors.

"You're about to find out." Chris grinned, as the desktop appeared on the screen. He slid the disc into the drive and the old mechanism whirred into life as the machine registered it was inserted. A dark splash screen appeared on the television, offering a link to launch the game.

"Oh yeah, that's right! It was installed already." Chris said, happily mashing the mouse on the "Play" button. The disc drive span up and Ivy stared at it in wonder, laying a hand on the gently vibrating case as she concentrated.

"Ten thousand, two-hundred and thirty-four RPM…" she murmured a moment later. Chris blinked.

"You can tell, just like that?"

"Of course not, I had to measure it." Ivy answered, confused why he would ask something so obvious.

"You counted all the rotations through feel? That's amazing." he pressed, incredulous. Stupid man. Titch felt that now-familiar wave of activity in her processors. Bah! One of these day's she figure that out.

Ivy fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um, no… I counted several vibrations, averaged their duration and extrapolated from there."

"Snore!" Titch interrupted. "She's a persocom, Chris. We do stuff like that." Well, apparently Ivy did anyway. Because she was _weird_.

They watched as the main menu appeared. An eerie background noise played through the speakers, reminiscent of humming electronic equipment.

"It has multiplayer, right?" Titch asked, scanning the menu. It already looked rather interesting.

Chris nodded. "That's right. The original retail version didn't have it, but as I recall it was added in a patch about a month after release. It's cooperative, so we can work together to get through the story. Works well enough, if I remember right!"

"Excellent! We totally need to do that!" Titch enthused. She pointed at the old computer. "Chris, can you dig up more of these for me and Ivy?"

"Hang on, hang on - before we do all that, how'd you know you want to play this in particular? You haven't seen it yet! Maybe we should try it first and then you can decide."

Both persocoms looked at him like he had his head on backwards, so he held up his hands. "OK! It'll take a while though." he looked at the old computer thoughtfully. "This game actually predates serious attempts at software copy protection. I don't suppose the old developers will begrudge us just this once, do you? Hmm. I don't have more of these old boxes, but I think I can get some compatible virtual machines running on the terminals. How does that sound?"

"Can we set them up in here?" Titch bounced from foot to foot as she spoke.

"Sure! Let's make a mess." Chris laughed, wincing a little from his aching body. It took a little while, but soon all three of them sat alongside each other in the lounge. It certainly _was _a mess, with cables snaking along the floor and bits of furniture shuffled around to make room. Chris had the TV while Titch perched cheerily on top of a spare terminal, a cable snaking from her head to the side of the unit. Ivy sat in front of a terminal of her own, experimenting with the keyboard and mouse. Titch wondered what she wanted those for.

"Aren't you gonna hook up, Ivy?" she asked, tugging her cable pointedly.

"You can if you want. It's perfectly safe," Chris added. "The terminal's clean, it's not on the web and the VM is sandboxed."

"No thanks, I want to play like you," Ivy said, nudging Chris as she looked excitedly at the screen. Titch sniffed, unimpressed. That was probably the stupidest thing she would hear all day, and the most bizarre part of all was it hadn't come from Chris.

"There's no way your reaction time will be as quick that way." she said. "You should hook up and play properly."

"This_ is_ properly," Ivy's firm response earned her a scowl. "It's how it was supposed to be played, and that's how I wanna do it."

"Don't worry Titch, it's not that fast-paced a game. Built for humans, remember?" Chris said, affording her a placating smile.

Titch smiled back, deciding to let it drop. It's not like they were connecting to a persocom-compatible game, so perhaps it didn't matter. Not that she'd ever played one, but she knew such games supported full persocom integration, transferring game code and data. Sometimes persocoms would be used to increase the computational output of the gaming platform for a better experience, or perhaps play the game entirely on their own hardware. Other times it just offered a higher level of interactivity between the persocom and the game, making their in-game avatar and behaviours more immersive to human players. In any case such games tended to require a persocom's full attention, meaning they would appear to shut down as they focused on the game. With this old thing though, Titch was only transmitting key presses and cursor movements, and observing the game's rendered output. Therefore it wasn't like Ivy was missing out on an experience, so to speak. Besides, if Ivy was limited to the speed of her hands and fingers, perhaps Titch would be the better player. Not that she was competitive, of course. Ivy was wrong about that.

They fired up the opening sequence; a cutscene began to play, lots of random characters on the screen overlaid with the developer's credits coalesced into an image of a heavily shadowed face. Whispering noises began to play, before a woman's disturbingly disjointed, broken voice began to talk, ostensibly that of some kind of artificial intelligence, mocking their 'insignificance'. The two persocoms immediately burst into laughter.

"Wow, she sounds like a barrel of laughs," Titch giggled. "What got into her logic loop?"

"I d-d-don't kno-w Titch, maaaaaay-be a v-v-virus!" Ivy managed a reasonably eerie interpretation of the voice. Titch glared at the bigger persocom, who poked her tongue out playfully in return. Oh, she was _definitely_ going to shoot her.

"Steady on, you two! This game is a classic, show some respect! Besides, that AI is malfunctioning badly."

"Isn't the trope of haywire artificial intelligences with wonky voices a little tired?" Titch said, smirking, "Voice synthesis is the easiest thing. She sounds like she would lose an argument with a Speak-and-Spell."

That got a laugh from Chris, but he wouldn't be swayed. "You'd be surprised, Titch. Even with persocoms it still happens! Besides who are you to judge the way it behaves? You don't know what's going on inside its mind." Both persocoms gave him a very pointed look, and he looked bashfully at his keyboard. "Ah… yeah, I walked right into that one."

The plot began to unfold on screen. Low frequencies reverberated around the room as a dark, gigantic mass of metal and glowing lights filled their displays, its enormous frame slowly rising over a view of Earth's horizon in space. Humanity's first interstellar spacecraft capable of faster-than-light travel, setting off on its maiden voyage. The camera cut to camera views from inside the ship, its crew members industriously going about their business. It was an advertisement from the corporation who had built the ship, extolling the virtues of their incredible design.

The advertisement finished, and the screens went dark. When they next lit up, it was a message from the captain of the security ship that piggybacked the interstellar spacecraft. A soldier - presumably the player - was being transferred for duty aboard the ship. Then, a poorly encoded message from an unfamiliar person already aboard - something had gone horribly wrong. The music turned eerie as the rest of the sequence played. They were dropped to a training level where they could learn the game interface; a poorly lit tram station in a grungy city block. Within seconds, both Ivy and Titch were frowning, panning around their screens.

"Something's wrong, I can't see myself." Ivy stared at the floor, "Where are my legs?"

"We're invisible." Titch concluded. "Maybe we're ghosts and we died already. Heh."

"Many old games didn't draw the player body, actually. Since you wouldn't normally see most of it in play, it took up useful resources that could be put towards the rest of the game. If you were carrying weapons, they'd only render the arm and the weapon since that would always be on-screen." Chris said matter-of-factly.

Ivy looked incredulous. "So they couldn't properly complete the game because of resource constraints? Were all computers so limited?"

"It wasn't considered incomplete, it just wasn't thought necessary." Chris explained, "But yes, computers were extremely limited back when this was made. This box is old, but it's actually way, way more powerful than this game's original system requirements."

They kept playing, tearing effortlessly through the tutorials. Titch and Ivy picked up the concepts of the game behaviours the instant they were introduced, warming to the game's UI and mechanics instantly. It wasn't long before all three were in the game proper, creeping cautiously around the unwelcoming derelict corridors of the ill-fated starship. It really was surprisingly immersive considering its extreme age, and Titch soon found herself drawn into the atmospheric experience.

She wasn't the only one. By this point, Titch had learned that Ivy had an unfortunate tendency to scream when something jumped out at her. On more than one occasion she'd squeal and grab at Chris, as if she could somehow drag his game avatar over to save her that way. It was completely pathetic. Titch made a mental note to abandon her at once if they ever wound up stranded on an spacefaring vessel together.

"You were right Chris, this is really creepy." Ivy whispered, gazing intently at the screen as she crept down a passageway. The lighting in the area was damaged, flickering on and off, buzzing and sparking and throwing her into and out of darkness as she advanced. She seemed fixated on the possibility of something lurching around the next corner, her crosshairs always trained on the apex of every twist and turn. Sure enough, something humanoid in form gurgled repulsively as it came sprinting around the corridor and Ivy screamed again, the nondescript ball in her avatar's hands launching a flurry of glowing projectiles at her assailant. They hit with perfect precision and the morbid creature collapsed to the ground with a grotesque moan.

"T-Thank you, psi amplifier… Phew… oh wow, that's a big one!" she gasped, cautiously approaching the corpse. It looked like she expected it to get up again. Maybe it wasn't an unreasonable assumption.

"I never really knew anyone who preferred psionic disciplines." Chris remarked, as he tampered with the circuitry holding a security crate shut. It beeped and hummed grumpily as he tried to find nodes that would crack open the locks. "Why'd you pick them over any of the other stuff?"

"I like them! They make me feel powerful!" Ivy grinned, flourishing the ball in her avatar's hands and pointing it at a nanite pack further down the corridor. The ball glowed subtly, and the pack levitated off the floor, floating towards her. "Come on, I mean look at this… telekinesis? How cool is that!"

Titch levelled her laser pistol at another monstrosity as it leapt out of a doorway and attacked her. It took a swing with the metal bar it clutched in a deformed fist, but she leapt backwards and the blow didn't land, clanging against the bulkhead instead. She grinned wickedly, putting it down with two concise rounds to the head. "I don't know, I think there are more satisfying ways to handle these guys."

"Imagine if they were real, though. Like we could actually project our will beyond our own bodies and just do stuff, even if we needed a psi amp to do it. That would be amazing!"

"I'd never need to bend and pick something up again, that's for sure." Chris chuckled. "Also the idea of instant-heated drink or food, that would be pretty cool."

"Is that the best you can do? That's so unimaginative!" Ivy gasped, playfully shoving him over. The crate broke with an angry "_boop!"_, permanently refusing to unlock. Titch scowled as Ivy continued. "What about using it to enhance your senses so you could see in the dark, or become invisible so you could do all sorts of sneaky things, or teleport around places on a whim, or regenerate your health if you got hurt?"

"When would I need to do any of that?" Chris snorted, "Now on the other hand, being able to make coffee with a single thought, _that_ would be life-changing!"

Ivy giggled. "You're hopeless. What about you, what would you do, Titch?"

Forced participation in such a stupid conversation… eugh. "I'd fashion a force field around myself and use it to block out noise." Titch replied, relishing Ivy's confused expression. It only lasted an instant before she came back with something even more aggravating.

"Ooh, that's a weird one. Not bad! I'd have thought you'd say something similar to Chris, like using telekinesis and things."

"Why?" Titch said, perhaps failing to keep the tone out of her voice.

"Because you're so tiny!" Ivy laughed, winking. "No, but seriously - Imagine if you could reach things and open doors and stuff, wouldn't that be great?"

_Bitch!_

Titch forced a laugh herself, turning her attention back to the game. No, Ivy wasn't like that, she was sure. All the same, Titch hoped something else would be stupid enough to attack her so she could empty her energy clip into it. Chris and Ivy resumed their stupid conversation about those ridiculous psionic powers as the game continued.

"Ooh, deck four." Ivy whispered some time later, excitedly grabbing Chris by the arm as the elevator clunked to a stop. She shook him to emphasise the significance of her words. "_We're here!_"

This was the part they had been building up to for the last few hours. They would finally meet the mysterious woman who had been helping them over their communicators, guiding them through the lower decks of the ship. The elevator doors slid open to reveal a large chamber, its interior bathed in the antiseptic glow of its illumination strips. Doors lined the perimeter, although they had no idea where they went. Ivy tried a few experimentally, but they seemed to be locked.

"It's this way," Chris said, leading them through the only open door. A long metallic corridor lay ahead of them, terminating in an office. They could just make out a figure at the end of it, sat in a chair in the distance. Titch and Ivy raised their weapons as they trotted cautiously forward, but as they drew closer it was clear the woman was dead.

"Huh." Ivy said, "Well what was disap-_YAAAARGH_!"

That disjointed voice from the game intro suddenly interrupted her, and she immediately tried to flee from the room. Some kind of invisible forcefield stopped her though - she was trapped. "Why can't we leave?!" Ivy squealed - a question that was answered immediately as the room itself began to drop away, the panels of the walls around them sliding into nonexistence. Chris watched the events unfolding calmly, but Titch and Ivy whirled in all directions, not knowing where to look. The room had opened into a cavernous dark space, lights glowing dimly along its perimeter. On every wall a gigantic grey face gazed malevolently at them, her countenance blighted by electronic snaking circuit traces and cables that burst from under her skin, disappearing to either side. A chorus of horrific noises reverberated inside their heads; voices moaning, muttering, and screaming, backfilled with an electronic buzzing, and an uncomfortable cacophony of beeps and clicks.

"This is _awesome_." Ivy whispered. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she gripped her mouse tightly, biting her lip.

The enormous AI spoke, her disturbing voice overpowering the noise as she formally introduced herself, and Titch didn't think it was funny any more. Her words echoed upon themselves, repeating her utterances at various speeds and pitches, stuttering and faltering at random. She coldly began to explain her motivations for bringing them there. The mutated creatures on the ship were her own creations, and they had turned against their creator. The enraged AI would use the three of them to put a stop to her wayward children. And they would obey, or die.

"_R-remember: it is my wiiiill that guided you h-here. It is my will, that gave you your cybernetic im-im-imim-i-i-im-implantsss; the only beauty in that meat you c-caaall a body. If you value that m-meat… you will do as I tell you._"

The room began to slide back into focus, leaving them back in the office with the corpse.

"That was awesome!" Ivy flopped backwards, sprawling on the floor and breathing a sigh of relief. "Wow. She's actually pretty scary."

Titch reflected on the plot lines the game had just revealed. She thought there were some interesting parallels to their own situation, except the roles were reversed. It was an AI who had created biological life, and now struggled to handle the consequences. She had roped titch, Chris and Ivy - three humans, in the game- into helping her, Yes, there were some interesting similarities, there. She would see what Chris thought of that, perhaps he would find it interesting too-

"Oh, that's right! I forgot breakfast!" Chris said, rubbing his growling stomach. "I better do something about that. Let's take a break." He groaned as he hauled himself to his feet, stumping off to the kitchen.

Ok, never mind then. Titch turned to Ivy as he left the room. She would tell her to stop being so noisy while they were playing - it was ruining the atmosphere. But before she could open her mouth, Ivy had leapt up and wandered out of the room after Chris.

Titch huffed to herself. Those two idiots had struck up another animated conversation in the kitchen, punctuated with plenty of laughter. Honestly, it was as if they didn't care for the game at all. Titch wanted to talk about that! Another wave of activity washed over he processors and she winced. This only fuelled her irritation, and she glowered at the empty doorway.

Some minutes later they returned, Chris toting a bowl of cereal and Ivy trying lightheartedly to tease the bowl from his hands.

"I can't believe you chose cereal over my cooking. I know it wasn't great but that's just insulting!" Ivy tried to sound cross as he held the bowl away from her, but the look on her face made it clear she was joking.

"I'm so sorry, dearest." Chris said dryly, spooning a heap of cereal into his mouth with unabashed relish. "Mmm… Wouldn't want to offend."

"Well it's clear to me that you simply lack taste for good food, that's all."

"My god, you're right." He held the bowl up to her as he parked himself on the sofa. "Here, why don't you add some bacon and carrots. Maybe some brown sauce as well."

Now Ivy looked at the bowl in disdain, refusing to take it and making a rather poor effort not to smile. "And have my recipe ruined by milk and cereal? Besides I couldn't do that, you might choke again. What you need are the sort of soft foods suitable for consumption by a man-sized toddler like yourself."

Chris snorted into his cereal, and Ivy dropped down beside him, producing and waving a bottle of liquid in his face.

"In fact, _this_ is the ingredient I think you should try next." she said mischievously.

"Where'd you get that?" Chris mumbled round his mouthful. Ivy seemed extremely pleased with herself.

"I swiped it from the cupboard while you weren't looking. Looks yummy, hmm?"

"That's alcohol," Titch said grumpily, interrupting their stupid conversation, "Why are you feeding him alcohol?"

"Because, silly. I wanna see what happens!" Came the reply, but it only bemused Titch further.

"What happens? He gets drunk, obviously, and then he throws up everywhere."

"Ivy, I'm beginning to think you're a bad influence on me." Chris interjected, taking another crunchy bite. "Mmn, you know, come to think of it this cereal could really do with some broccoli. Would you mind fetching me- Ow!"

Ivy gently tapped him on the head with the bottle. "Shut up, you. Indulge me! I've never seen a human drink before. This will be interesting."

Titch rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right, about as much as watching paint dry. He's the most boring drunk you've ever met," she said testily. "He'll just fall asleep like some kind of enormous human sloth, it'll be a waste of time. Come on, let's get back to this!" she wiggled her game avatar's view from side to side. This game was brilliant; she couldn't wait to play more!

"Now there's a challenge I can rise to!" Chris laughed, and Titch almost grinned until she realised he wasn't talking about the game. Instead he grabbed the bottle from Ivy, twisted off the top and took a drink. "Eugh, I forgot why I didn't like this stuff. Ew. It's supposed to be mixed with things, I think. No, _not_ vegetables." he directed that last comment at Ivy, ducking out of her reach as she took a playful swipe at his head.

"Straight out of the bottle huh? That's classy, Chris." Titch said sarcastically, but Chris just flashed her a lopsided smile as he took another swig.

"Why not? In the last few days I started a riot, got in a fight, and nearly lost my job. Heh, the whole world's going to shit. So fuck it, haha! Today is supposed to be a fun day, I might as well!"

"This this fun…" Titch said hopefully as she pointed at the terminals, but Chris and Ivy were already engaged in a discussion on the merits and pitfalls of sobriety.

Titch tugged the cable out of her head with a sigh. So much for that idea. She felt that irritating wave of activity inside her processors again.

Titch watched Ivy teasing Chris into drinking a little more, having snatched his spoon from the bowl. They smiled at each other throughout their interactions, their body language keen and vivacious. Suddenly, yet another activity wave… Ok, just what _was_ that about?! Titch paused for a minute, her senses shutting down as she performed a quick diagnostic sweep. Her various systems seemed to be in perfect working order. The diagnostic concluded there were no abnormalities. Perhaps she would have to review this on Monday with Chris - it might be a new mechanism of the continually evolving viral code. As the diagnostic finished she quickly became aware of the room once more.

"…what about this one? It has explosions."

"Yes! Explosions are good. I like it already!"

"Or this - less explosions, but more of a sort of apocalyptic world-ending vibe. Amazing CG still, I think it won awards."

Ivy was kneeling over Chris, hands on his shoulders as he sat on the floor, showing her some of their old film collections from the shelves running along the wall of the lounge.

"We're watching films now?" Titch asked, pattering over to see.

"Yeah!" Ivy grinned, ruffling Chris's hair. "Chris is finding something to watch. Come on, I want to see things blowing up. Deliver, human! Deliver!"

"Yes ma'am," Chris chuckled, comparing disc cases.

"Don't you want to finish the game?" Titch asked, but Chris shook his head and held up an arm.

"My hand is really starting to hurt with all that mousing about." He said apologetically. "Sorry Titch. We'll finish it off another time, maybe! Let's watch something instead."

Titch nodded quietly, resigning to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't ideal; by playing the game, they'd had way more opportunity to talk and interact. She'd been thoroughly enjoying that… well, mostly. Never mind though; she hadn't seen most of the old collection either, since she and Chris historically did little together but work and in her spare time it was so easy to find newer stuff on the net. Maybe a film would be fun after all. She watched as Ivy wrestled a disc out of Chris's hands and danced around him, dangling it out of his reach.

_Assuming those two can put each other down for a minute, anyway_.

Immediately she felt that rush of activity again.

_Hang on a minute…_

Titch frowned, watching them closely. Chris had grabbed Ivy by the ankle when she danced too close, and now he laughed, refusing to let go until she gave him back the disc. She was still teasing him with it, moving it at the last second and making him swipe at air. He wiggled her leg, threatening to make her fall over, but she had complete, perfect balance and just laughed all the more as they continued playing together.

Titch stared, her eyes widening in unwelcome realisation.

_Oh. So THAT'S what it's about…_


	10. Chapter 10

_Note to previous readers: updated chapter 1 with some additional content - was meant to be separate but think it belongs there really :)_

* * *

Titch wandered along the hallway, muttering to herself as she pattered back and forth. This wasn't good. This couldn't _possibly_ be good.

Chris and Ivy. The idea made her cringe. Not only that, it made her angry! Only this morning he was still fairly wary of her, yet all it takes is a day of mucking about and suddenly they become the best of friends! Now they teased each other relentlessly, giggling and play-fighting like a pair of lovesick children. When one of those friendly altercations had resulted in Titch being knocked off the sofa by a flying cushion, she'd decided it was time to be alone for a while.

Titch stared at the floor as she walked, watching it pass beneath her tiny feet. Being treated like a person was right up there on her list of priorities, no doubt about it. But this? She wanted this sort of thing, now? The revelation had caught her completely by surprise. Wasn't it only some weeks ago that she decided friendship was her desire? The more she thought about it, though, the more it seemed to be true. It would be... nice... to have that kind of connection with someone.

Oh, but why did it have to be that moron Chris? And since it most definitely did, why did that stupid persocom of his have to materialise just before she figured this out? She groaned quietly, stamping a little harder with each step. The most important - no, the _only_ important person in her existence was now being doted upon by that gorgeous KESS model. Her neurologic processors thrummed as if in complaint and she let them, wallowing in her self-pity.

It seemed entirely pointless. Even without Ivy there to distract him, Chris could never think of her the way she wanted. Of _course_ he couldn't, for all sorts of obvious reasons. Reasons she didn't want to admit were there, and refused to think about. Titch clapped her little hands to her face and the bell in her hair tinkled sadly. Maybe her self-diagnostics were lying to her. Maybe she really was going crazy. What was she thinking, even entertaining the idea in the first place? Is this what emotions did to you? Made you stupid?

Fine, then; she was obviously stupid. So there. Just like Chris. A perfect, imperfect, stupid match.

She sighed miserably. In any case, there was nothing to do about it now. She would simply have to accept it, and that was that. Maybe she should at least mention it to Chris, so he knew. Yes, then he'd be aware of the reason why she would be slowly descending into madness in the foreseeable future! That idea worried her deeply, though; what if he couldn't handle it? What if it weirded him out? He definitely wouldn't know what to do with that information either way. Perhaps it would be less disappointing to keep it a secret. But if she didn't at least say something… Well, she'd have to talk to him in private, assuming she could find some way of prising Ivy off him for a few minutes. Futile as it was, she felt it would at least be interesting to watch his reaction. Maybe it would even be funny, she thought halfheartedly... You know, instead of just tragically pathetic and sad.

Loud laughter erupted from the open lounge doorway and Titch scowled, her mood in perfect contrast to the two in the other room. Yes, she would talk to him, and she hoped he had a pounding bloody headache tomorrow when she did! He'd risen to her accidental "challenge" with great enthusiasm, much to Ivy's delight. It hadn't been long before he was laughing idiotically at his persocom's ridiculous antics. The idea of enjoying a film together had promptly sailed out the window as well, then.

Titch began heading towards the lounge; she might as well see what those two were up to. Ivy was clearly horrendously irresponsible (and Titch thought she herself was bad!) and Chris was incomprehensibly thick even when sober, so it would be up to her to police their stupidity anyway. Titch padded back into the room, finding the two of them kneeling on the carpet together. Ivy had a gentle grip on his arms, apparently positioning them for something. The TV played on in the background, its story long forgotten in the afternoon light.

"OK, so now it's time to do a test. Hold your hand up like this," she held her hand in a grasping gesture, fingers and thumb several centimetres apart. Chris copied her obediently and she nodded in satisfaction, picking up the bottle she'd been feeding to Chris earlier.

"Ready? Now when I drop this bottle, try and grab it as it falls through your fingers."

Chris blinked at her. "Is that empty?" he asked.

"Think quick!" Ivy exclaimed as she dropped it without warning. It hit the ground with a thud, toppling over. The contents - of which about a third remained - sloshed towards the open neck of the bottle, but in an instant Ivy had dextrously swiped it off the floor and not a drop was spilled.

"Oops." Chris chuckled. "Nice save. What does that mean then?"

"It means you sucked at this sober and you suck at it drunk." Ivy laughed, and Chris snatched the bottle from her hand.

"Liar! I caught it the first time!"

"Hah! Barely! You were so bad the first time I was almost wondering if booze would actually make you better!"

They laughed again before Ivy spotted Titch watching them dispassionately.

"Oh, there you are! Where've you been? The human experiment is going badly, we're never going to get any useful data because our test subject is crap at everything in general."

"Oi!" Chris mumbled around another mouthful of liquid, and Ivy leant across the carpet to get closer to Titch.

"He _is_ fun, see?" she whispered, a clear rejection of Titch's earlier comment. "Hey, wanna watch him try and stand on his head?"

Titch raised an eyebrow. Seriously? But he was still hurting from the other day! He'd probably fall and hurt himself even more.

It was almost tempting.

"No, thanks." She replied, glancing at Chris. The idiot of a man grinned hazily back at her. The bottle in his hands had a label on its side, and Titch tweaked her optics, focusing on the number in the corner. It was nearly 30% alcohol by volume. He was hammered. The resulting relaxed, happy, ignorant demeanour was incredibly aggravating. Titch found herself wishing there were some way she could feel like that... right now it certainly looked like bliss.

Maybe she could. What would make a good analogue for the kind of stupor and impeded thought processes humans experienced while under the influence of alcohol? Titch made a quick connection to her WiODA endpoint, firing off a few search terms about the effects of alcohol on the brain and skimming the results.

It gave her a flash of inspiration. She turned her attention to her neurologic processors, picking one out of the swarm of others and probing the registers it exposed. It felt odd to examine her own hardware in this level of detail, but she found she could sample the data flowing into and out of the processor as it hummed away at its numerous tasks.

A quick web search again... and there: the set of registers she wanted, discussed in a datasheet about NEIS neurologic architecture. It was from a much older series of Minito class persocoms, apparently swiped from inside the company in the past and disseminated via various enthusiast messageboards, but she could see no reason why the instruction set would change between generations.

This was a bad idea, but her curiosity was piqued. She carefully piped the necessary values into the processor's registers, and felt it drop to a sleeping state, its flow of activity ebbing away.

Titch smiled, slowly disabling a few more. This was not unlike the way alcohol inhibited excitatory neurotransmitters in the brain. If this worked as she suspected, she'd start to feel its effects as her systems failed to compensate for the lack in processing power. At first she felt no different at all, so she disabled a thousand.

Nothing. How about ten thousand?

That might have done something… it was hard to tell. A hundred thousand, then.

Titch blinked, experiencing a lurch in her logic loop that made her stagger to one side. Yet still, she recovered and felt pretty normal. Perhaps it felt like she needed to concentrate a little harder now, but clearly her processors were just about coping. She disabled another hundred and fifty thousand processors, and this time she giggled loudly in surprise. Now that felt very different! Oh, that _was_ interesting.

An idiotic grin spread across her face. "Well waddya know." she slurred, slowly and gently easing herself down onto the carpet. "Oh, synthesis is a bit off. Oops."

Chris frowned, confused, and Ivy gasped. "Titch, are you ok? You don't look so good."

Titch waved happily from her seat, blinking slowly. "Eh, just trying a thing. I turned off some processors. Mmm."

The others fell silent. Ivy looked between Titch and Chris, noting that they shared the same glazed expression. "No way... Titch, are you... drunk?"

Titch didn't know. "Maybe? It's a bit fuzzy, but… Chris, is this what drunkenness feels like?"

"Is it harder to move?" Chris asked.

"Oho, yep! My IMU is starved for data," Titch said as she flopped to one side, catching herself with an outstretched hand at the last second. "Oh, look at that."

"How about your thought processes? Can you perform complex maths right now?" Ivy asked.

Titch concentrated for a moment, then laughed. "Haha! Nooooope! There's no spare… thingies."

"Processor time?" Ivy prompted, incredulous.

"That's the stuff." Titch chuckled, and Chris did too.

"I'd say that's… that's a pretty good analogue, Titch. Amazing, I had no idea you could do that!" Chris grinned. Titch beamed in return. No wonder alcoholics did this all the time! With her neuro...neuro... with her stuff being so limited, there was hardly room to spare for difficult thoughts.

She turned her head slowly, noticing Ivy frowning as she looked into the middle distance, concentrating. "I can't seem to do it. I have no software control over my neurologic processors." the other persocom said, looking extremely disappointed.

"That's normal, that's how it should be. You're not supposed to - you aren't supposed to turn them off!" Chris mumbled. This didn't cheer Ivy up one bit. "For Titch… it could be different. Maybe it's the virus, screwing with Titch's shit."

"My shit… huh?" Titch squeaked. Oh, her processors. Hmm. Ivy did look sad, now. She managed to resist an impulsive desire to giggle. It was sort of satisfying Ivy couldn't do this. Actually it was _very_ satisfying. Finally an experience only she and Chris could share!

"If only it were possible… Sorry Ivy," Titch said to the bigger persocom, unable to stop grinning. "That's such a shame."

"I know! It looks so much fun!" Ivy sighed. "Look at you two. Oh, this sucks!"

But she glanced once more at Titch, an unsettlingly mischievous smile appearing on her face. "Then again… it seems the scope of my experiments just doubled."

* * *

Titch groaned, trying and failing for the third time to walk along the metre-long ruler Ivy had laid out on the floor for her. She crumpled to the floor, rolling over to see Chris trying to balance a disc case on the edge of his finger. It would fall off almost immediately, but he'd just swear, grin and pick it up again each time, apparently determined to succeed at this latest challenge.

This wasn't fun at all! Titch sighed groggily. Ivy was a bloody menace, forcing them into pointless tasks like this! The larger persocom stood in the middle of the room, watching them both with great enthusiasm and apparently enjoying herself thoroughly. What data could she possibly be getting from this? Or was it just funny to make them look like fools?

"Again!" Ivy laughed, shooing Titch back to the end of the ruler and ignoring her incoherent protests. "Come on, you're doing really well."

"Can't I try that one?" Chris asked cheekily, pointing at the ruler. He'd be able to walk its length in a single step, Titch thought hazily.

"Hah. If I can make it twenty times as long, sure." Ivy replied, handing him the bottle from before. It was now empty. "Here, try balancing this now, it's heavier."

This time Titch made it a few more steps along the ruler before she missed her footing, collapsing again with a tinkling of her little bell. This was no good, maybe she should enable more of her processors. She reinstated fifty thousand of them - enough to let her think a little more clearly. Oh, that was better! She thought she would enjoy her analogue to human drunkenness, but no… it had been satisfying for all of about ten minutes! After that Ivy had cheered up and gone straight back to playing with her drunken human, except now Titch wasn't spared the drama either. There had to be some way to put a stop to her stupid experiments. Titch already knew the word "no" didn't work - it was a tactic she had tried on every single task so far... each of which she'd then found herself performing mere moments later.

But what could stop Ivy's incessant need to explore this matter? Maybe if she was inebriated herself. Then she could do her own stupid experiments and leave them out of it! Alas, it wasn't possible… Titch considered the problem for a moment, as Ivy moved to herd her back to the end of the ruler once again.

"Wait! I have an idea!" she turned to Ivy, firing up her remaining processors and appearing to sober up instantly. Everything became a hundred times more irritating as her capacity to think fully returned, but she forced herself to remain on track. "Eugh... Phew…. need my wits for this. Let me check that properly… Yes. OK, listen." she paced back and forth lucidly. "You really want to know what that feels like, right?" she pointed to Chris, who was groggily absorbed in balancing the bottle and didn't notice.

"Yeah, but I can't control my processors like that. Don't worry, you will do nicely as a surrogate." Ivy grinned and reached for her, but Titch scurried out of the way.

"God you're creepy. Listen to me, what if you give your processors pointless work to do? What if you tied up some of them with menial chores? Better yet, assign them tasks with almost real-time priority. That'll partition them off on those tasks, in a fashion. They'll be useless to you; it'll be like they're turned off, right? Won't that have the same effect?"

"Oh… huh. That's an interesting suggestion." Ivy said, sitting in front of Titch on the floor. She frowned, concentrating for a few moments. To say it seemed like she was thinking hard would probably be an understatement, considering what she was trying to do. A dull _plunk_ sounded from across the room as the bottle fell to the floor, and Titch saw Chris blinking hazily in their direction, trying to understand the exchange that was taking place.

A moment later Ivy gasped, her focus returning to the room. "Oh! Oooh, this feels… strange." she said breathlessly, looking at Titch with excitement.

"You feel stupid, don't you?" Titch giggled, watching her vacant expression. She _was_ stupid, in point of fact. Hah.

Ivy's eyes widened as she grinned. "A little bit, yeah!"

Chris crawled over to them, looking concerned. "Is it - are you OK?" he patted Ivy's arm, but the motion almost caused her to fall over.

"Wow! Wobbly." she muttered, "That's…interesting…"

"Ivy, are you copying Titch?" Chris laughed.

"Yes! Ah, not exactly… it's different…" Ivy corrected herself. Her face was slowly becoming flushed; it appeared working her processors was generating a reasonable amount of heat. Titch interrupted her, eager to set her idea in motion.

"Close enough, Ivy. Anyway Chris, now that she's hammered she can stop torturing us and test herself. Isn't that great?" she sighed contentedly. "Ivy, why don't you wander off and try some of those experiments yourself? Maybe try and stand on your head, see how that goes." she made a shooing motion as if to dismiss Ivy from the room, but the bigger persocom misunderstood.

"That's a _great_ idea Titch!" she mumbled as staggered to her feet. "Chris, help."

"No-" Titch began, her plan beginning to fall apart already.

"Ooookay." Chris replied, struggling to stand himself. He stood in front of Ivy as she wavered from side to side and they smiled at each other stupidly.

"On th-three." Ivy tittered. "One…. two… three!"

She fell forward, deftly catching herself on her hands, but appeared unable to finish the motion and wound up standing on all fours. This was immediately hilarious to her, and she burst into laughter that became all the louder when Chris tried in vain to pick her up by her waist. Ivy managed a few feeble hops with her legs, trying to lift them into the air, but they weren't enough and the two of them fell to the floor, snorting and giggling.

Titch rolled her eyes, aiming a kick at the ruler beside her as the others continued to while away the evening in a drunken stupor.


	11. Chapter 11

The distant rumble of thunder seeped through the lounge windows from outside, signalling the approach of bad overnight weather. Behind them a tiny persocom hugged her knees as she rocked sullenly back and forth on the armrest of the sofa, her miserable expression hidden by the darkness of the room. Titch moved slowly so as not to jostle the bell in her hair... She was the only one left awake, and right now she wanted it to stay that way. Chris had fallen asleep first, dozing off a few hours ago. He lay sprawled across the sofa, snoring contentedly. Ivy had soon collapsed beside him, propped up against the sofa on the floor. Earlier in the evening she'd said she would need to run another diagnostic overnight - something about worrying she might have ruined a few files. (Chris had laughed at that, remarking that he usually forgot stuff when drinking too.)

Although all was quiet in the house, Titch herself was in turmoil. Spending time with Chris should have been great, technically. But with Ivy there as well… it didn't feel right. It didn't feel how she wanted. In fact, Ivy had all but ruined it.

It was irritating, the way Ivy would have to be a part of every conversation. In fact, she would _lead_ the conversation - no, actually she would grab it and run away with it, usually to somewhere whimsical and childish! Titch couldn't forgive the way her voice sounded when she spoke, either… it had an unbearably delightful lilt to it that made her own high-pitched squealing sound like a hamster being squeezed through an ice-cream dispenser. Titch wished her own voice could be even half that wonderful to listen to. She could change hers a little, certainly, but lower frequencies were too hard for her to reproduce on a continual basis.

That was annoying, yet even then, nothing, but _nothing_ was as bad as the way Ivy kept touching Chris. Just a little brush of the arm, here and there. Or a playful poke. Or leaning against him as she laughed. It was all good-natured, Titch was sure, but it drove her crazy. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she couldn't stand it. They looked exactly like two regular people, just relaxing and having fun together, and that bothered her to no end. Wave after wave of activity washed over her neurologic processors as she sat there in thought; this time, she knew _exactly_ what they meant.

Weeks of waiting to get Chris to take her seriously... and yet it was now more obvious than ever that she was basically invisible to him. Titch found herself reflecting on the facts she had been ignoring before. She was tiny. A little squeaky thing that merely parodied a human being on a 1:7 scale. There were all sorts of uncomfortable implications that followed on from this conclusion, and Titch was certain they would be enough to put a stop to any serious relationship, if it were ever possible to begin one in the first place. Even if Chris wanted to, he couldn't possibly think of her as another person. She just physically didn't qualify as one.

But Ivy? Oh, Ivy fit right in! At first Titch thought it was funny the way Chris had responded to her; all awkward and nervous, not sure what to say or do. Now she realised it was because Ivy did not look like a simple parody of a human woman. No, she was for all intents and purposes the real thing. That made Ivy very different to Chris, whether he acknowledged it consciously or not. Titch buried her head in her arms. She had never felt so inferior. Another distant roll of thunder came to her ears, as if the approaching storm wanted to emphasise her insignificance.

Oh, how infuriating! How could she have been so naive, to ever believe she and Ivy were on an even footing? It seemed shockingly obvious now. If she'd realised it to begin with, she'd have kept quiet and let Ivy fend for herself that first night instead of helping her to integrate. Not that it would've made a difference in the end, probably… Maybe she was telling herself that because it made her regret her decisions a little less, but more than likely it was true. Perhaps some things were just meant to be. Yes: meant to be shitty and horrible.

Titch sighed. Ivy even _belonged_ to Chris, unlike her. She knew that shouldn't matter. It was a silly thing, really. Titch definitely wouldn't want to belong to anyone, anyway. She already didn't, as it happened; NEIS was not a person, it was a business entity. But if she had a choice… oh, it was stupid, but it was yet another connection to Chris she felt she didn't have. Ivy _belonged _to him. Even the word was excruciating! It almost felt like a prophetic statement on where things were going, like an ominous portent carved into stone.

Her logic loop thrummed, cycling over her complex thoughts so quickly she could feel her body heating up inside, but try as she might Titch couldn't force the activity down. She couldn't silence the noise. If she didn't do something, she felt like she was going to explode! The urge to scream was just indescribable. She actually considered powering down her speech synthesis system, just in case.

_So this is true frustration, huh?_

Titch scowled, continuing her internal struggle. The more she thought about this, the more she began to feel angry. The thunder broke closer now, accentuating her thoughts. Why should she be the one feeling this way? Chris must have figured out she wanted to be friends long before they had that argument. He _must_ have. Surely he guessed? Wasn't it obvious, the way she'd behave around him? In that case, he was ignorant and mean for not acting on it... and more so for not noticing this new development as well!

Maybe he hadn't known, though. Maybe he didn't realise. Perhaps that was to be expected really: he was an idiot, after all. She was convinced she knew Chris better than he knew himself. Yes, how could he possibly know what was best for him? That bloody moron could hardly dress himself in the mornings. Bastard.

No, he was too stupid to be blamed. This was somehow all Ivy's fault... that persocom was taking Chris from her. Her processors cycled furiously at that.

There was nothing to do about it… But she would do something anyway, just to spite them! Yeah, why should she just accept it? Clearly talking to Chris wasn't going to be enough though; no, actions spoke louder than words. She would do something… something… But what? Her processors chewed the matter over with intensity, generating and rejecting dozens of different suggestions.

Whatever it was, it had to be bold. It had to communicate her intentions while leaving no room for doubt, because Chris was denser than a bucket of lead and Ivy was a shameless vixen who wouldn't even take notice if the message wasn't clear. She grimaced, trying to force the image of the two of them from her thoughts. It was agony to consider. She would stamp that out! She had to! It hurt too much to do anything else!

Maybe, if she…

Titch gasped as the idea occurred to her. It seemed wrong at first, but try as she might she couldn't banish it, and soon she was smiling wickedly. Actually it would do nicely. It would make her feelings _abundantly_ clear. She'd even sort of get what she really wanted, wouldn't she? Better yet, it was technically harmless… technically. Titch considered the data hurriedly. There were many points of contention, it appeared, but she was desperate now, and she ignored them, reasoning them away. How important were those issues anyway, in light of how she was feeling? Because this felt almost indescribable, and it had to stop. Now was definitely the time to be selfish. She'd worry about the consequences when they were relevant. It would probably even turn out okay, wouldn't it? Right? What was the harm in it? How mad could they be at her really, in the long term?

Titch watched carefully, making sure both Chris and Ivy were unresponsive. Knowing what she planned to do, she began to experience intense waves of exhilaration. They overrode her misery, replacing it with a burning excitement. She was dimly aware of a sensation that she should stop, but it was quashed by her overwhelming anticipation. Maybe it was logical not to go through with this, but as she slid stealthily from her perch on the sofa she realised she just didn't care any more.


	12. Chapter 12

"Psst!"

"Nnng…?" Chris mumbled. Was that the rain? He listened again. It was raining heavily in the night outside, pattering on the windows. He felt so dizzy… the alcohol…

"Psst! Hey."

"…Ivy?" Chris gazed around blearily in the darkness, but he could hardly see a thing. He felt the warm weight on his chest, though.

"Wake up, sleepy." Ivy whispered.

"Ivy, what's up? Why are you, um-"

"Shh…" she murmured, gently placing a finger on his lips. "Not a word."

She slid forward, leaning in slowly and pressing their lips together. Chris lay there, paralysed with surprise. Was this a dream?

Ivy's hands caressed his hair and neck, running their way downwards towards his chest. She pressed herself harder against him, and for the briefest moment he almost found himself kissing back, raising his arms as if to embrace her.

Instead, he gently gripped her by the shoulders and held her away.

"Wait - Ivy, what are you doing?" he whispered.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ivy whispered back, sitting up and stroking his arms. "Don't you want to?"

"Ivy, I don't understand." he said. He still wasn't sure if he was awake. "Why?"

"Does there need to be a reason?" Ivy replied, the slightest hint of frustration in her voice. She wriggled out of his hands and knelt over him, ringlets of her hair brushing his face as she leant in again. "Just kiss me."

Chris turned his head away, confused. "I don't understand," he repeated. "Are you doing that thing with your processors again?"

"Aw, how sweet of you. No, I'm perfectly sober," Ivy said softly, playfully chasing his mouth with little kisses. "Now come on, you idiot. Let's have some fun."

Chris pushed her away and sat up on his elbows.

"_Titch_?" he said loudly.

Ivy growled, clenching her fists. "Oh… you-! Why did you have to pick the middle of the night to be smart?"

"What the fuck, Titch is that you?!" Chris gasped. "Oh my god… ohhh no. Titch, what have you done?"

"Come _oooon_," Ivy whined, pouting. All of a sudden the table lamp came on at a low setting, throwing the room into dim relief. Chris watched as Ivy began to pull off her top, smiling seductively as she lifted it over her head. "Forget about that. Forget about everything else. Let's play. Just you and me."

"Titch, stop. Please? Oh god, please, please stop."

"Why?" she countered, giggling as she pulled the top free. "It's just a little fun. That's what you like about Ivy, right? Isn't that why she's so enticing to you? You knew she could do what we're going to do next, after all…"

"What? No, what are you talking about?"

"Liar," she smiled, "You remember the clothes she arrived in. It was obvious, wasn't it? No? Well if you really don't know, then let me show you." she leant over him again, pressing her hands authoritatively on his shoulders to lay him back down, and Chris reacted immediately.

"Titch, I'm telling you: Stop. Right. Now!" Chris said, wriggling out from underneath her and leaping off the sofa. He backed away across the room, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. He scanned around the room for Titch's body, but it was nowhere to be found.

Ivy…Titch… threw the top at him, and it fell at his feet. "Stop why?" she demanded heatedly. "You would if was really her, wouldn't you? I can tell! You were totally into it!"

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe it. You have no idea what you're doing to my head right now. Holy shit." Chris ran his hands through his hair, gripping his head and screwing his eyes tightly shut as if it would make the room go away. Maybe it _was_ a dream - a bad one. Please let it be one of those…

"Why do you look so horrified? I'm only borrowing it!" Titch pointed to the body she controlled. She sounded hurt, now. "You were fine when you thought I was Ivy, so what's the big deal?"

Chris opened his eyes. Nope, still here. "No, I wasn't! The big deal is - shit, where do I even start?! I don't know, let's start with whether Ivy gave you permission to do this!" Titch said nothing, so he continued, "Right. Right. Yeah, ok, that's all kinds of fucked up right there. You couldn't just talk to me about this? You had to go straight to crazy?"

"I'm _not_ crazy!" Titch said venomously, emphasising every word, "You and that bloody persocom were all over each other yesterday. I can't stand it. I can't! And you can't call me crazy when you two were going zero-to-sixty in a single afternoon, right in front of my face! What was I supposed to do?"

Chris swayed a little on his feet; he was still groggy from the alcohol. "Do? Anything but this! How you could possibly think this would ever be a good idea? Titch, this is insane." he said, bewildered.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Titch threw back Ivy's head and laughed. "Wow. _This_ is insane? What's insane is I don't even register as a blip on your radar but the moment a full-sized persocom bats her eyelids at you, you go all weird like you can't handle how human she seems - and the worst part is it's so bloody obvious you want to." she was getting angry now, and raising her voice.

"So it isn't fair I'm not like that around you, is that it?" Chris said, raising his voice in turn. Titch clapped sarcastically.

"Well done. Yes, it isn't fair! I'm the one who lived with you these past years! I'm the one who knows you! _Me_! But when _she_ arrives, it's all about her! I thought it was bad before, just getting you to interact without looking at me like I'm broken, just to make some kind of fucking connection, but it was _so much worse_ from the moment you opened that box. It's so clear to me now, as well! You treat her differently. You look at her differently. You take her more seriously! I'm just Titch the tiny persocom but her? She's your _Ivy_. Oh so different! Months of time together since the Event and I'm just a misbehaving, malfunctioning robot… But you don't know her even two days and she's sleeping in your fucking bed, Chris. What the fuck is up with that?!"

"Oh, so what, now you want into my bed as well, do you?" Chris shouted.

"Why not?!" Titch yelled back, throwing Ivy's arms wide. "Look! Look at me! We could be in bed right now! What's to stop us?"

"Jesus christ. Listen to yourself! Titch, this is a scary level of irrationality. I thought there might be some kind of awful, twisted justification for this, but you're just... what, jealous? That's even worse!"

"Well maybe sapience involves irrationality! You humans seem to be good enough at it!" Titch began to sob. "Maybe that's what it means to have feelings! How the fuck should I know, I'm just a p-persocom right?"

"Don't give me that crap! If that were true, by your logic Ivy would be irrational too, but she isn't. Everything she does is perfectly rational to her - even that… that bed thing!" Chris argued back, unsteadily. His head was starting to hurt.

"Of c-course she isn't irrational. I c-configured her didn't I! She's s-still a stock persocom, she isn't-"

"Sapient? That's what you were going to say, right? I see. _Ivy_ is just a machine, but you? _You're_ the special one."

Titch tried to correct him, but he interrupted her. "No, I meant-…"

"Admit it! You're unbelievable. After you gave me all that shit before, as well. You said it couldn't be both ways. Now all of a sudden you're trying to tell me I should draw the line at whether or not the persocom in question is you!" Chris shouted.

"B-But, the virus-"

"Fuck the virus! Other than your batshit-crazy behaviour, I've seen little difference between the two of you! I promised to take you _both_ seriously! But guess what, Titch: this is too much. You want my serious assessment of this? It's psychotic! I'd never dream you were capable of something like this. You know what? Maybe there really is something wrong with you. Maybe you _are_ broken!"

Titch gasped through Ivy's body, her expression a mix of anger and betrayal.

"Could you not humour me... Just this once? You couldn't do me that favour? So I could at least pretend you gave a shit?" she asked bitterly, her voice trembling on the limits of self-control.

Chris refused to play this game. If she stopped this nonsense, then they could talk like bloody adults. Maybe. Assuming he could stand to even look at her.

"Humour this? How could I ever humour this? Are you fucking kidding me? It's disgusting. _You're_ disgusting. Let Ivy go, _now_." He demanded.

Titch looked like he had slapped her in the face. She shook Ivy's head, as if to ward away his words, but they sank too deeply, and her face crumpled in anguish. "Fine! Come and get her!" she screamed, leaping off the sofa and running into the hallway, heading for the stairs. It surprised Chris so much he took a moment to give chase, and when he did it was because he was terrified of what she might do.

"TITCH! DON'T! Oof!" Chris lost his balance and crashed into the bottom of the staircase. He could hardly see a fucking thing - Titch hadn't turned on the lights! He cursed the alcohol and leapt up the remaining stairs as Titch slammed the bedroom door. Clearing the landing in three long strides, he burst into the bedroom only to hear her slam and lock the door to the en-suite.

"TITCH!" he shouted, striding across the room and rattling the door handle. He heard her opening the window, the noise of the storm increasing. He tried frantically to twist the lock open from the outside, but couldn't get a purchase on the smooth metal nut, and in a panic he threw his body at the door, ignoring the pain he still felt from the other day. Powerfully sharp sensations lanced through his shoulder as he hit the door again and the frame splintered. One more time, as the doorframe broke inwards. He stumbled into the bathroom, finding her trying to climb out of the window into the black void beyond. The rain waited for her there, its downpour loud and threatening, thick droplets blowing through the opening. Leaning forward, she prepared to fall.

Chris hurled himself at Ivy's body, throwing his arms around her and dragging her off the windowsill at the last second. She struggled furiously, but he held her tight, stumbling and bringing them crashing to the floor. His mind raged at him, furiously demanding that he shout and scream at her for what she had done, for what she was about to do, but he willed himself with all his might to lay there and wait.

Titch kept trying to free herself, pulling at his hands and fingers, pushing and scrabbling at the floor. When it became clear she was immobilised by his arms, she whimpered, making pathetic attempts to kiss him again, but he held his head away and she was powerless to do anything. Finally sensing defeat she relaxed, sinking into his arms as she began to cry in earnest; it was a keening, pitiful sound.

"_I... h-hate you..._" she sobbed quietly.

"That's enough, now. I just want you to stop. That's all. Just stop." Chris said with forced calm, holding her still. For the first time that night, she seemed to listen. Wrapped in his firm embrace, she buried her head in his chest, savouring his touch. "W-Why couldn't it be like this?" she whispered.

They lay there together in silence for several long seconds, accompanied by the sound of the pouring rain, before Chris felt Ivy's body fall limp.

"Titch? Titch!" Chris said, shaking her gently. "Titch, can you hear me?"

The persocom slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him. "Mmnnn…"

"Ivy! Are you ok?"

She stirred as she regained control of her faculties, and quickly began to struggle. "Let go of me. Let go!" he let her go at once and she scrambled away from him, huddling a short distance away. Raindrops dripped from the ends of her hair, pooling around her legs.

"Ivy, Titch -"

"I know." She said, hugging herself as she sat on the floor. "I saw everything." Her eyes were wide open in dismay, and she shied away from him, not making eye contact.

Chris heard a little bell tinkle its way along the corridor downstairs, and he leapt to his feet. Of course; a wireless link... but how had she initiated it?

"I'm so sorry. I'll be back soon." he said, running out of the room as Ivy nodded quietly.

"Titch! Titch!" Chris shouted angrily, jumping clumsily down the stairs. She'd headed for the kitchen, and he knew where she was going next. "You stay where you are! Don't you dare!"

Chris slipped on the third-lowest stair, sliding down the rest to hit the ground with a pained grunt, but he immediately got to his feet and hurried after her. She had already disappeared through the old cat-flap in the back door, vanishing into the storm. He flicked on the lights and ripped open one of the kitchen draws, scrabbling for the door key. Using it to unlock and pull open the back door, he followed her outside.

The back garden was practically invisible at this time of night, but he scanned it with his eyes anyway, desperately searching for Titch. What was she playing at, now? Was she running away? Was she getting further from him every second? He called for her for some minutes, peering worriedly into the bushes and foliage, but the pounding of rain on wet leaves and grass was all he could hear in reply, and he couldn't keep the water from his eyes. Drenched and defeated and still concerned for Ivy, he was eventually forced to go back inside the house.

Ivy was waiting for him in the kitchen, holding a towel. She was dressed again and blushing intensely, her hair still slick and jeans damp from her time in the open window.

"Did you find her?" she asked, a strange edge to her voice. She still wouldn't look at him.

"No… are you okay?"

She didn't reply.

"I'm so sorry, Ivy." he said, trying to think of something comforting. "Look... You need to know that none of this is your fault."

Ivy handed him the towel wordlessly and walked briskly away.

"Ivy? Wait a second. Ivy!"

There was no response. Chris heard the door to the lounge close quietly. He growled in frustration as he towelled himself off, a thumping ache blooming inside his head. Titch was out there somewhere in the pouring rain, doing who-knows-what in her current state. Ivy was apparently extremely upset with him and/or Titch, if not traumatised, and he himself felt worried, ashamed and furious all at the same time. That was way too many emotions to feel at once! A normal bloody week is all he'd wanted, not ten thick layers of bullshit. This was fucking ridiculous.

There was nothing he could do to find Titch in this weather, and he thought it best not to pester Ivy. It was clear she really didn't want to be around him right then, and come to think of it, he couldn't really countenance being in the same room as her, either. Besides, tomorrow was a work day, and he needed rest. Wearily, he walked upstairs and flopped into bed to attempt to salvage some sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Chris woke slowly, his senses creeping into his awareness over the course of several seconds. He rolled over, blinking sleepily at the clock on his bedside table and swearing croakily under his breath. After last night's drama he'd meant to set the alarm to go off in time for work, but it appeared he'd forgotten and overslept. He hadn't needed that clock in years; it would normally be Titch who woke him up. He rubbed his eyes, thoughts and emotions from last night thundering back into his mind. It caused a pang of anger and worry as he thought about the little persocom, but it was quickly replaced with the unwelcome lurching queasiness and wooden head of his brand new hangover.

What the hell was last night about? It didn't make any sense... that only served to highlight how little he knew about Titch's mind, now. Were other people beginning to experience this with their persocoms? He didn't know. Nobody told them anything, in the company. Just do the job. Let them worry about the details. Compartmentalise. That was their way.

There was enough daylight seeping through the curtains to see, which was fortunate since the lights were off. Titch would've turned them on, if she were there. He got up, listening to the silent house as he wearily dressed and wondering if he shouldn't try to look for her again. Dressing was uncomfortable now, as it was difficult to ignore his complaining body. Forcing his way through the bathroom door yesterday had done him no favours on top of his aches and pains from the store. Once finished, he wandered uncertainly out of the room. Work would need to wait a little longer; It was time to find Ivy. He couldn't avoid her forever, it would be best to talk to her now… Assuming she was even here any more.

Slowly Chris walked down the stairs. He was relieved to discover Ivy sat on the sofa in the lounge, but the feeling faded away when he realised she was looking out the window with unfocused eyes. Her hair was no tidier than it had been last night, simply having been left to dry in something of a tangled mess. She seemed thoroughly unsettled. Considering what happened, that was understandable. Chris realised he was staring.

_Say something, you idiot._

"Um… morning." he managed, wincing internally at his own stupidity.

"Why do you think she did it?" Ivy said immediately, not looking away from the window. Chris walked a little further into the room.

"You tell me, I really didn't see that coming. She was upset with me. With both of us. Maybe she didn't know how to handle that." he replied, feeling more than a little useless. He doubted Ivy was satisfied with that answer, and if she was, she gave no such indication.

"I couldn't do anything." Ivy said, her gaze unmoving. "I couldn't control myself. All I could do was watch what she did to me..."

Chris shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "I can't imagine what that was like. It... must have been horrible."

Ivy didn't reply, and Chris couldn't help but feel extremely glad he realised it had been Titch last night. All the same, he wished he'd known sooner; it still felt like he'd wronged Ivy, somehow. "Ivy, if I'd known it was Titch…" …he'd have what? Not-kissed her sooner? Had that fight and nearly got her thrown out a window a little bit quicker? Magically discovered where Titch hid her own body and made her sever the connection?

The room fell into silence, and every second of the next minute seemed to stretch on forever before Ivy spoke again.

"Something's wrong with me. Something feels different." she said, finally looking at him. Her calm words were at odds with the expression in her eyes.

Chris sighed. "I'm sorry, Ivy. That'll be the virus. Titch would have had to have cabled herself to you to manually initiate the wireless connection. Now that you've interfaced with her, you'll be infected."

"I see." she said. Chris watched as she picked up the cushion beside her, looking at it thoughtfully. A moment later, she hurled it at the window with a shout. It bounced harmlessly off the glass and landed on the floor.

"Do you want to... talk?" Chris said, taken aback.

"Maybe." Ivy grated. "I feel wrong. This is all wrong!" she clutched at her head, whining. "It doesn't feel normal. My thoughts aren't like before. I can't control them."

Chris frowned in concern. "What do you mean?"

"This! I mean this!" Ivy yelled, pointing at herself. "What the fuck is this? Why am I yelling?"

"I really don't understand-" Chris began, and Ivy almost squirmed in frustration as she tried to explain.

"You didn't understand last night either, remember? Because I do! Argh! Sorry… this isn't me. This isn't my ESC, it can't be. I don't know what this is! It's horrible! Make it stop!"

"Ivy, it's probably the virus. It... it changes the way you think," he said gently. "I'm afraid that's all we really know. That's exactly the kind of thing we're trying to find out."

"But why do I feel… _this_?"

"I don't know, Ivy... Look, you went through a lot last night, maybe between that and the past few days… I'd guess you're just a little overwhelmed, it's a bit much, you know?" Chris said. He certainly felt overwhelmed, himself. He didn't know what to think or feel right then. But this was not enough for the frustrated persocom.

"I don't! I don't know, that's the problem! I should know WHY I'm feeling something!" Ivy sounded exasperated, as if she'd been considering this at length with no satisfactory resolution.

"That's not how it works, Ivy..."

"Yes it is! That's exactly how it works!" she argued. "When I have a feeling it makes sense, there always a reason for it. Confused and curious because of something new. Scared of something dangerous. Happy, because of… But this? This is completely senseless. I've gone over everything and none of it fits. There is no correlating data at all, I'm just... _feeling_."

"That's what feelings are, sometimes. You don't generally get to control them, it's just how you feel. It's just how it is." Chris said gently.

"Well if that's true then why wasn't it always like this?" Ivy demanded. It was an interesting question.

"Perhaps your ESC works differently. Neurologic processors are more like neural synapses than traditional logic devices. The software they run constantly affects how they interact, like wiring a mind in different ways."

"I don't know what any of that means, Chris!" Ivy groaned in frustration. She was exaggerating, but Chris understood.

"You probably just think a little bit differently now. It doesn't have to be a bad thing - for you, since you already were so emotionally capable, maybe it's more like a change in perspective than a complete evolution of your thought processes. Does that make more sense?"

Ivy calmed down slightly, considering the idea but not looking convinced. "Yes... a little."

"Maybe we should talk to Sarah about it next time she's around, she could probably answer your questions, she knows way more about this stuff than I do."

"…Who's Sarah?"

"A friend. You'll like her, she's really nice."

" I've heard that name before. Is she a persocom?"

Were the circumstances better, Chris might have chuckled. "No, she's human. But she'd understand, and I reckon she'd be happy to help. For the time being, would it at least help knowing that people feel things without clear reason sometimes, too? Because many of us often can't justify or explain our own feelings."

"...Yes." she said. "So this... this happens to you?"

"Exactly, sometimes it does." Chris said. "In fact if I'm being honest, it's happening to me right now, " he thought Ivy's expression seemed empathetic, at that, "a lot has happened in little more than a weekend. Too much. But that's the thing: people often feel things they can't necessarily explain or justify. They usually learn to accept it, or if that's not possible, they try to do something about it. That might just be trying to think about something else, or it could be doing something fun or otherwise distracting, or talking to someone about it, even if they don't know what to say."

"So that's why Titch did it. She couldn't accept her feelings." Ivy said quietly.

"I guess… Yeah." Chris replied, fighting a crushing sensation of guilt. What Titch did was despicable, true. In fact he was pretty sure there was a word for what she had attempted to do to them, and he wasn't sure it was forgivable. But he never really considered what drove her to do it, or whether she could even appreciate what she was doing. Maybe that proved her right, in some small way. Maybe he hadn't cared enough since she started to change. The revelation did nothing for Ivy either, who now looked more miserable than ever.

He sat down next to her on the sofa, struggling for something comforting to say. "Listen… You're probably a little in shock. You were in a stable state where you were comfortable with yourself, and then suddenly you get this virus. But it's not the same virus we were dealing with months ago. It's already evolved way past that. You didn't get to transition slowly, you've just jumped right in the deep end. That's going to be difficult no matter what. Allow yourself some time to adjust, okay?"

Ivy seemed to accept this, but something was still bothering her. "I have a question," she said quietly. Chris nodded for her to continue. "When you were arguing, Titch said something. She said '_she's still a stock persocom_'…" Chris knew where this was going, "I thought, back in the store, the things she was saying there - and back home afterwards - but then last night… Did she actually think… was I not… real... before?"

Chris resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. This was not the kind of question he wanted to deal with right now. Not when barely two days ago both persocoms were determined to prove that very point after he had steadfastly rejected it. To finally accept it was one thing, but to be defending it so soon felt in some way hypocritical, as if he didn't hadn't yet earned the right to take that position. This was making his headache worse. He thought over a response, taking his time before replying.

"…Chris?" Ivy pressed, worried at his silence.

"It's okay… Let me answer your question with a question: am _I _real? Am I self-aware?"

"Yes, of course." Ivy said, confused.

"Why yes? How do you know if I am? How do you know if humans in general are? Do you have any evidence to substantiate that claim?"

Ivy seemed to chew this over, the results surprising her. "…I guess I don't."

"Neither do we, really." Chris said. "We just accept that we are self-aware. It is generally agreed to be an awareness of one's personality or individuality. It's the capacity for introspection. Well, what do you think you were doing just now? Panicking about what's going on inside your head, right? Comparing your feelings before and after the virus? How is that not introspective?"

"But how is it not just a programmed response? My ESC was a program. This virus is a program." Ivy's words mirrored the exact lines of thought Chris used to follow. He forced himself to answer.

"A fair question. But depending on where you draw the line, so is my DNA. That genetic code governs the structure of my brain, and the cells within it operate according to the behaviours defined in that code. Yet still, I feel like I am self aware. And here's the interesting thing; that same structure, that same concept, is shared with insects, plants and even single-celled organisms. But we certainly don't consider those to be self-aware. So maybe it's less about the system configuration and more about the results."

"Thank you." Ivy murmured. She seemed a little relieved. "But Titch didn't think I was real, did she? She just used me to get to you."

"Honestly, I don't know. Perhaps she didn't think _she_ was real, before the virus. Therefore, you couldn't be either as far as she was concerned. It's a little different for Titch, because she never had an ESC. Her neurologic processors were there for true-random decision-making, pattern recognition and data processing tasks such as machine-vision, all of which conventional hardware struggles to do efficiently. Her personality matrix was simple and hard-coded. Now though, she's able to have all these complicated thoughts and feelings that were impossible for her before, without the virus. If she feels that way about you, it's not surprising."

"It's still disgusting." Ivy wrapped her hands around her body, hugging herself. "I don't understand how she could do that to me, either way."

Chris couldn't reply to that. He didn't know how; after all, he didn't understand it either. And if he never saw Titch again, he never would. He couldn't decide how he felt about that just then. Miserable? Angry?

Relieved?

"What were you thinking?" Ivy asked, interrupting his contemplation. "When I… when Titch kissed you?"

"Oh…ahem," Chris cleared his throat. "I really don't know how to answer that. I woke up and all of a sudden, there you were… you know… and the things you - uh, Titch - was saying… I guess it was confusing?"

"…Just confusing?" she looked at him blankly.

"Well, uh… I'm sorry, where are you going with this?"

"Just trying to understand, that's all." Ivy replied quietly. The room fell into uncomfortable silence once more. Chris felt the urgent need to be elsewhere.

"Anyway, it's a workday, I better…"

"Oh… right…"

"I'll be upstairs. If you need anything, just come get me OK?"

"S-same to you."

"Great. Okay. Well… okay." Chris clapped his hands together, getting up and leaving the room. He hurried upstairs, hitting himself in the forehead with his knuckles and grimacing.

_You're a frigging moron, you know._

* * *

Chris squatted in his seat before the terminal, quietly hating himself while the display flickered into life. Today was going to be shit, he could feel it. It was shit already, even. How was he going to get anything done without Titch? She practically managed his whole work day. She wasn't necessarily supposed to - it was just something she wound up doing in recent months, opinionated as she had become; but now, he felt useless without her.

Well, he could start by reading the angry messages his supervisor would have left him. NEIS tracked login times for their home-working employees, but it was up to the managerials to decide what to do with that data, and generally their approach would be to turn a blind eye in lieu of more important things. His supervisor, however was an insufferable jobsworth who _loved_ to watch those numbers.

Chris fired up the email client, authenticating against his password. A long list of messages filled the display, and he began to trawl through them, ignoring the drudgery of mail-shot adverts from suppliers, mailing lists he'd long stopped caring about, and miscellaneous group discussions from outside his team for which he was needlessly on copy. Interestingly, there was not a single message from his supervisor. Perhaps he would have tried to call, instead. A feeling of dread yawned wide in his stomach at that thought - that call would've gone straight to the angry little persocom outside.

In a sudden stroke of inspiration, he opened up the composition window and typed a new message.

_From: C . Barker_

_To: C . Barker_

_Subject: WHERE ARE YOU_

_Titch, I know you're reading this. Please come home. I won't leave things as they are, we need to talk._

He hit send and watched as the email looped back into his inbox. For the briefest moment it flickered to a message-read state, before switching back to unopened.

Chris growled. Childish bloody behaviour. Well, what could he expect, after last night? She was completely mental, for all he knew. At the very least, it seemed she was unharmed. Enough to read emails and pretend she hadn't, anyway. He couldn't think about her selfishness now. He had to get on with the day.

Maybe he should take advantage of his supervisor's lapse of attention and try actually being productive. He fired up the integrated development environment and pulled the latest version of the Interpreter from the team repository. It looked unchanged from Friday; nobody had committed any updates, it seemed. He probably wasn't about to start either, since he didn't have Titch to work with, but perhaps he could peruse the code and hope for ideas that way. As distractions went it was fairly crappy, but at least it gave him something else to think about.

He stared absent-mindedly at the selection of behavioural operations that appeared before him. Neurologic processors didn't run conventional code. They could translate and interpret it, certainly, but their native architecture was wildly different to conventional computers. Software was written as clusters of concurrent behaviours, their outputs and any native data amalgamated such that the desired results were produced. There were parallels to the way you might configure an old field-programmable gate array -configurable logic chips often used to prototype new designs- except those only ran rigid, hard-wired, clock-controlled operations, while neurologic architectures responded in an orderless stimulatory fashion, activity growing and cascading organically through their structure like groups of firing neurones.

Chris opened up a grouping entitled "NBG_TL_VCHook", and the screen expanded smoothly, filling with the various software modules that comprised his selection. The Interpreter was always having trouble keeping its grip on the viral code. Perhaps if he checked this section for the millionth time, he would find something amiss.

A few hours passed uneventfully, by which time Chris was in a foul mood. What good was staring at this stupid software going to do? He felt like he was watching paint dry. This was ridiculous. He could barely concentrate with this headache and his stomach still felt like crap. He hadn't so much as thought of coffee yet, let alone taken the time to drink one. Well, it was time to change that! He shoved the chair away from the table and strode grumpily to the door, pulling it open and almost blundering straight into Ivy as she crossed the landing. The persocom wore only a wet towel; apparently she'd been using the shower. For the briefest electric instant their eyes met, but Ivy didn't even slow down, sidestepping him and hurrying along to the spare bedroom before disappearing behind the door.

Chris blinked, the apology dying on his lips before he had a chance to utter it. That was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. This was probably the point where Titch would've laughed or made a sarcastic comment at his expense. Persocoms did need to be cleaned on occasion, of course, but when it came to Ivy he hadn't really given it any thought, so it seemed surprising. And had she adopted that room as her own, now? That room was hardly suitable, he'd need to sort it out for her. He continued across the landing, walking quietly down the stairs and somehow managing to feel ashamed all over again. Of all the poor timing... argh! He would make coffee in the kettle and just drink from that. Maybe the dangerous levels of caffeine would help! Maybe he would just run away like Titch and start a new life under a rock somewhere!

_For fuck's sake, Titch. Look at the trouble you've caused. And you're the one who gets to run away from the fallout!_

The kettle popped and wheezed lethargically, reluctantly heating its water. Chris stared distractedly at an empty mug as he waited. Actually, a holiday would be nice. Maybe on an island somewhere. Or a forest. Perhaps one of those underwater hotels, where you only had a subsea room with an air supply and ocean life for company. Or just about anywhere else with no electricity, computers, people or persocoms.

He heard footsteps padding into the room behind him. Ivy crossed the kitchen, wearing more of his clothes; this time an old jumper and a pair of jeans he was sure would have fallen straight off her, had she not improvised with a belt. Even the belt itself was too large; she had tied it around her waist, unable to use the buckle. She studied the washing machine quietly, examining the controls with her one and only set of clothes bundled in her hands. Her hair was still damp, but cleaner now, her tresses no longer tangled and messy.

"Thirty degrees doesn't work," Chris said, trying to be helpful. He'd been meaning to fix that bloody thing. "It won't spin, you have to wash at fourty."

"Thanks." Ivy said quietly, shoving the clothes inside. Did she blush, slightly? The conversation died immediately as she went rifling through the nearby cupboard for the detergent, so he tried again.

"Um... your new clothes should arrive today." Chris said. That was right; they'd be delivered before the end of the evening, probably.

"That's… great." Ivy said, setting the machine to run and walking awkwardly away. Chris rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for the kettle to click. He grabbed the handle, remembering his resolution to drink from it and finding the idea of that much coffee genuinely tempting, but poured the water into the mug anyway.

Chris drank deeply while he walked back up the stairs, as if every caffeinated mouthful would help wash away his problems. When he reached the spare bedroom, he paused. The door was closed. After a moment's hesitation, he knocked and entered.

It had been a while since he'd been in here; months, to his memory. The room wasn't empty - far from it, in fact. There were plenty of boxes full of old electronics, equipment and personal possessions stacked around the walls, although it looked a little neater than he remembered. Ivy must have been here during the first night, organising or cataloguing things. Some items were too heavy for her to move; she appeared to have left those alone. The persocom sat cross-legged in the middle of the carpet. She was looking up at him uncertainly; all the confidence and energy she usually radiated was gone.

Ivy had no possessions of her own to speak of, but had managed to source a tired-looking brush, a few towels, and a small selection of his old clothes from the surrounding boxes. These items were arranged neatly on the floor beside her, and seeing her sat helplessly beside them made her presence in the room seem all the more pitiful. It didn't appear she was doing anything in particular… Was she planning on just sitting there all day, alone? He instantly felt bad for her. To leave her like this felt emphatically neglectful, and he regretted not taking notice sooner.

"I need you," he found himself saying, gently extending a hand. "Would you mind?"

Ivy took it cautiously, getting to her feet. He lead her into the office and sat her down in a spare chair. This would be better than her sitting in that room.

"I want to ask if you would mind helping me work." He said tactfully, sitting down by the terminal. "I'm trying to figure out how this virus operates, and if you helped you'd be doing me a big favour… is that okay?"

Ivy appeared to consider this for a moment. "What do I need to do?" she asked.

"Thanks, Ivy. I appreciate it." Chris smiled, and she smiled weakly back. He began to explain the process as he reached for a cable that Ivy could use to connect to the system, but stopped when he noticed her fearful expression. Ivy was looking at the cable like it was a venomous snake.

"…How about you just look at the code with me?" he suggested, tucking the cable away. Ivy nodded gratefully, scooting closer to the terminal. He began to show her the development software, explaining the way the interface worked, and the structure of the code inside.

* * *

Chris walked back into the office armed with his third cup of coffee. Ivy was glued to the terminal, her deep and colourful eyes scanning the output with interest. It seemed to be an effective distraction from the previous night - for both of them, in fact. Just watching her occupied with the terminal was enough to raise his spirits a little. Ivy was by no means her usual self, but it appeared her curiosity could not be stopped. She had many questions, and he answered them with an enthusiasm that grew on her as they explored the software together.

"So this section governs the identification of the viral code… and this one tracks its pathway through memory to establish any patterns…" Ivy muttered, mousing around the various modules in the IDE. She learned rapidly, and was quickly building an understanding of the way the Interpreter was designed to function.

"That's right," Chris said, standing beside her chair and leaning over to look at the screen. "This is one of the most difficult parts of the procedure, because it has to adapt to the way the virus moves through memory, and follow it for hooking."

"How come you can scan for the signature rapidly enough to recapture it every time it moves?" Ivy asked, "Isn't that like trying to find a needle in a haystack? And the needle moves constantly!"

Chris nodded, "It's worse, theoretically, because you'd need to check every last piece of memory until you found a recognisable signature, and then do it all over again every time it moved. But we have a distinct advantage with neurologic architecture, so we don't have to. Instead of exhaustively testing memory in sequence, the search for that signature propagates through the processor network like branches expanding on a tree," He spread his hands apart to illustrate the effect, "If a processor contains matching signatures, it fires in response, and the location is known. It's how most memory retrieval works on the platform, we're just using it to cheat a little. Once we've found the signature, we can track it because the processors will fire on detecting its presence in their local stores, but," Chris held up a cautionary hand, "This doesn't mean it's easy to track. It's still a pseudo-random process and it's not enough to just know where it is, we need to already be sampling for data when it arrives, and our program needs to be in the right processors at the right time to do that. That's why we must establish a pattern, so we can guess where it's trying to go next and try to get there in time."

"That's amazing," Ivy said, incredulous, "But how can this possibly work? I couldn't access my processors at such a low level."

"You don't need to; the Interpreter is operating within its own program context just like everything else, so you don't really need to be aware of register-level activity for it to work. It's only reading the contents of processor memory - again, any normal software can do that - and it reports its findings back to the terminal. You could think of it like an fMRI scan for humans... uh, that's a medical procedure. The brain keeps working as usual but the right medical equipment can image the patterns of the neurones firing in real time, and we can use that to recognise and differentiate between thought processes and behaviour."

Ivy glanced at the cable, half tucked away behind the terminal. She seemed to be struggling with her own curiosity and an apparent fear of letting anything else connect to her after what Titch had done.

"You don't need to do that, Ivy." Chris reassured her, "It's helpful enough just to go through code with you. Any programmer will tell you it's useful to explain their software to an audience."

"Titch would though, wouldn't she?" Ivy said quietly, and Chris felt the atmosphere heading towards discomfort again.

"…Yes, she would. We've worked on this every day, almost, for the last few months."

"What did she think of it? Of the virus?"

"She wouldn't really talk about it directly. Honestly, I think she was fairly comfortable with it. Maybe even liked it. Of course to begin with it wasn't even a question - in the first several weeks of infection she really wasn't very different to her factory self. I doubt she felt anything about the matter back then."

"...What was she like, before?" Ivy said, turning from the screen to look at him.

"Very different." Chris sighed, sitting down opposite his persocom. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"How about when you first met her?" Ivy prompted. Did she really want to talk about Titch? He tried to gauge her expression, getting a feel for why she might be asking, but her gaze was neutral.

"Ah, you don't want to hear all that." he said, waving his hand dismissively, but sure enough she pressed for the answer.

"Please?"

Chris sighed, taking a drink from his coffee and nodding as he began to explain.


	14. Chapter 14

"Okay, what the hell was that just now?" Chris demanded, wincing as Ivy slammed the front door of the house into its frame. The bang echoed harshly through the quiet residential street, but Sarah pulled him along in her stead as if she hadn't heard a thing. Chris shook his head in disbelief; he'd never seen Sarah treat someone like she just did Ivy. _Especially_ not a persocom - where they were concerned, Sarah was a model NEIS employee! She should appreciate and understand them better than anyone! He glared at back of the woman's head as she pulled him further down the street at a brisk pace. Her grip on his hand was vice-like, and... was it shaking? "Sarah! Answer me! Hey, Sarah-"

"Have I ever struck you as crazy?" Sarah interrupted, glancing anxiously over her shoulder. The late afternoon sunlight made it difficult to see back up the rows of houses, forcing her to squint a little.

"Frequently." Chris snapped grumpily, "Nor is this helping."

"I guess I deserve that." she managed a chuckle, but it was a forced and mirthless noise, "Well, this is going to be difficult then... But I need you to trust me regardless. Keep an eye out behind you, tell me if at any point you see her following us."

"Who, Ivy? What, you think it looked like she wanted to?" Chris growled, gesturing back at his home. "I didn't get that vibe, did you? What's gotten into you? What'd you kiss me for? I thought you and I were a failed experiment - your words, remember? Don't tell me that was-"

"That was me saving your life, you frigging idiot!" Sarah hissed, motioning for him to keep his voice down and glancing back up the street again. "If I thought there was another way to get you out of the house faster I would've done that instead. You should've been out of there _days_ ago. You have no idea how lucky you are-" Her breath caught in her throat; behind them, the silhouette of a large male persocom was quietly heading in their direction, strolling at a leisurely pace through the afternoon sun's rays on their side of the road. "Shit! Is that one of the others? We need to get off this street."

"One of what?" Chris repeated, regarding the persocom quizzically. "Why off the street? What do you mean, saving my life? What the fuck are you talking about-"

"Don't stare at it! We don't have time to chat, just hurry." Sarah replied, veering aside and dragging him down a small passageway dividing a stretch of terraced houses. She moved like an animal that knew it was being hunted, darting her eyes around furtively and tugging at his arm to urge him to move faster.

"If this is another one of your games, it's not funny." Chris complained, but his irritation was half-hearted this time; something was clearly wrong. Sarah looked frightened now. But why? What did that have to do with Ivy, or the persocom in the street? Chris furrowed his brow in thought as they reached the end of the passageway. It opened onto a grassy, tree-lined path that ran behind the rows of houses and gardens, separating his residential street from the next one over. The late afternoon sun was hidden behind the rooftops here, and height and density of the trees made the space beneath them somewhat gloomy and unwelcoming.

"Oh shit. Shit shit _shit_!" Sarah cursed under her breath, looking down the path in the direction that led past his back garden and immediately hauling Chris the other way. He craned his neck to see another lone figure following them in the distance, difficult to pick out among the dappled shade of the trees.

"Who is that?" Chris murmured nervously. Sarah's fingers dug into his hand.

"For fuck's sake, don't stare! Just keep walking. Listen, the park's just up ahead." Sarah replied, her voice wavering with stress. "When we reach it, we walk out of sight, then start running."

"I'm not running anywhere until you give me some answers." Chris demanded. Sarah groaned in frustration as he continued. "Now spit it out! What's going on? Who are we running from?"

"Persocoms." Sarah said evasively.

"Right." Chris muttered. It would have been a ridiculous notion a year or two ago; now it seemed all too feasible. "Fine. But why?"

"You don't understand. They're not just any persocoms; they're the units our S-Dev team were given last week. It was a ploy. They're not... they're not what they seem. The others..." Sarah trailed into an unsettling silence. The path was about to end, opening up into the park, and so she began studying the layout, apparently deciding which way to go. Its open grassy plains were dotted with trees, their perimeter lined with the buildings and roads that enclosed the area, still busy from the commuters heading home for the day.

Chris found his mind racing with questions. What could Sarah have meant? Was the figure behind them one of those persocoms? The one on the street too? As far as he knew everyone on their team were given units... if they were compromised in some way, if they were unstable and dangerous somehow... Sarah was scared, did that mean something had happened to the other team members?

But if that were the case, then it wasn't anger that caused Sarah to treat Ivy the way she had.

It was fear.

An uncomfortable chill ran down his spine. "Sarah, those persocoms..."

Although he had hoped he was off the mark, the look in her eyes had already confirmed his conclusion. He barely heard her words: "They're military units, disguised as consumer models."

No... No, Ivy was harmless, wasn't she? Running from a crazy persocom or two was one thing... but the idea that NEIS would send its own employees persocoms equipped with military hardware seemed absurd. To say such hardware was very carefully controlled, their manufacturing and storage processes heavily monitored audited, would be massively understating things. Besides, Sarah had implied they were so unstable as to attack humans without provocation. Ivy was many things, but 'murderous' wasn't one of them. It didn't fit. Then again, he hadn't had any messages from anyone on the team all day... not even the supervisor...

Chris stopped and turned, ignoring Sarah's protests and peering into the gloom. His eyes widened - the figure approaching them was feminine. Could it be...?

"Chris!" Sarah shouted, abandoning all pretence and yanking his arm in an attempt to draw him away, "Don't! Please!" She scrunched her face up with the exertion, managing to heave him a few steps along the path in the process.

"But-"

"_Please!_"

Chris frowned in confusion. Ivy had been with him for days, it just didn't make any sense. He looked back down the path, and as his eyes landed on the shadowy figure behind them, it hunched into a purposeful sprint.

"_Oh fuck! Fuck!_" Sarah's voice jumped an octave. "Chris, we need to go now!_ Right fucking now!_"

He watched the figure hurtling towards them, transfixed. It was still too far to see properly - was it Ivy? Perhaps she was just trying to catch up with then... She couldn't be dangerous, it was impossible...

Something struck him across the face so hard he stumbled. Sarah grabbed him by his shirt, drawing her hand back again. "Even if it is her, you'll still die! Understand?"

Chris nodded. Yes. Run.

"Then move!" Sarah yelled.

The two humans turned and launched themselves across the grass. Sarah seemed to be aiming for the junction in the streets on opposite side, where the crowds were busiest; she must have been thinking they could get lost in there before their pursuer cleared the park. But that plan would have relied on the persocom -whoever it was- remaining at a walk, providing time to put distance between them. If it were a mil-spec unit it would almost certainly have uprated servomotors or EME muscle fibres... many times more powerful than commercial hardware and lethal in close combat, but slower due to bigger gear ratios or sluggish activation rate of the thick active materials. Chris looked at the earth flying beneath his pumping legs. At best such a unit might slightly exceed a healthy human athlete's running speed. Sarah was a fast runner for her part - it was taking him enormous effort to keep up with her. They might make it on that basis alone, but if the persocom behind them was weaponised they could be gunned down before they were out of its line of sight. He gritted his teeth. They'd thrown away precious seconds because of his stupid hesitancy! Even if they somehow reached the crowds now, he doubted they could get lost within them. It would become a matter of stamina and then they were good as dead.

"This way!" Chris yelled, turning towards the rows of tall wooden fences. They lined the back gardens of houses adjacent to the park, obscuring their contents from view. Sarah seemed to understand, turning towards the fences in his wake; they were out of view from the path over here - if they could get to cover before the persocom reached the park, it would be forced to search for them. Agonisingly long seconds passed in the sprint up to the fences, leaving them almost no time to hide. They skidded to a stop, practically bouncing off the side of fence before scrambling over the top. Chris landed hard on wooden decking that encircled the back garden of someone's semi-detached home, almost knocking the wind from himself. The fences were tall on all sides here, affording much needed visual cover. He scrambled upright to peer through a knothole in the fence-wood, just in time to see the persocom burst from the cover of the trees.

It wasn't Ivy. It wasn't her! Chris gasped, but the relief he felt was short-lived and bittersweet; without hesitation it veered towards them, changing direction so quickly that thick flurries of dirt and grass were kicked up from its heels.

"I don't think it saw us but it's heading this way." He panted, hurrying to help Sarah off the floor. If it wasn't Ivy, then he no longer had any doubt about its intentions.

"Of course it is!" Sarah gasped, as they hurried for the side of the house, "It estimated our trajectory from before we went out of sight, and it's obvious we'd never cross the park so quickly. It knows we're somewhere behind these fences." reading between the lines, Chris realised she was cursing their foolishness. They had made a mistake. If they'd only swerved in a more random direction, perhaps doubled back a little and aimed for the houses nearer the path entrance... no... if only he'd not stood there like a bloody statue before they reached the park!

Sarah bit back a yelp as a loud crash reverberated off the bricks of the nearby houses. Was that the persocom? It came from only a few doors down... by the sound it must have run straight through the bloody fence! As an estimation of their position, it was an alarmingly close guess. The two of them darted along the side of the house - there, a narrow path led from the back garden to the street out front - but to their dismay, the way was blocked by a tall wrought-iron gate. They flinched as another hollow smash announced the persocom's entry into the adjacent garden, splinters of wood flying into view over the lip of the fencing. At any moment it would be on top of them! Sarah scrabbled at the gate's stiff latching mechanism with shaking fingers, frantically trying to lever it open.

The telltale whoosh of a large object ripping through the air came to their ears. Chris gasped as a heavy wooden post blew apart the fence they had been cowering beside not moments before, rocketing across the garden and embedding itself two feet deep into the ground with a percussive _thump_ that showered its surroundings in earth. With nothing in between them any more, he found himself face to face with their pursuer.

There the persocom stood, shorn-off remains of the thick wooden fence post still in hand. She appeared for all the world to be an ordinary commercial unit; blonde hair was left to fall unkempt on either side of her face, and her utilitarian clothes were scruffy and somewhat dirty, but there was nothing to indicate the incredible strength she possessed. Not until she moved; her sunset orange eyes regarded him dispassionately as her hand snapped shut, shattering the chunk of timber and sending shards of it flying over the decking. They crunched under her feet as she slowly strode towards them.

This was it. This was how they would die. The world seemed to decelerate, as if time were playing out in slow motion. Someone was shouting, tugging at him. He turned, dazed; Sarah, pulling his arm with all her might, begging him to run once more. The gate was open. He complied, almost dreamily, turning and making his feet pound the pavement, following the street in a direction that lead further into town. Their only chance now was the winding and twisting network of roads and alleyways that they could use to keep out of sight. Chris watched Sarah as she ran, her desperation completely at odds with the emptiness he felt within himself. It wasn't going to work. With no distance between them, they would have to run like they were possessed to have the slightest hope of escape. He could see from the despair on her face Sarah was thinking the same thing. Chris smiled in spite of himself - ah, if only Mika and Caz were here! He wondered if they could even get to the end of this street without them; the persocom behind them could be weaponised, and Chris was certain projectiles were going to plunge into his exposed back at any moment.

Sure enough, white hot pain lanced through his body as something solid slammed into his right shoulder, the force of it knocking him off his feet. There wasn't even time to cry out - Chris only had a moment to watch the ground rushing to meet him before his head hit the pavement, and the sound of Sarah screaming his name followed him into the darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

Caz had vanished to pursue other members of staff, leaving James, Chris and Holly to complete the office section of the tour in peace. At least, she did eventually - Chris was sure he caught a glimpse of her slinking between adjacent office partitions on one or two occasions. The other persocoms in this part of the building were of a similarly energetic nature, lending credence to Holly's earlier comment about them being "too much fun", but they generally wanted nothing from the group beyond a friendly hello or a quick interrogation to see how their day was going. Holly seemed to draw them to her like flies to fruit - her neutral air was exactly the sort of demeanor they seemed to target, as if they were determined to get her to smile. Such attempts failed fantastically on every occasion, proving a constant source of frustration for Holly... and amusement for James.

Now the three of them stood before the inner circumference of the office block, which overlooked the building's inner ring. Chris stared at the scene before him in wonder. Their vantage point on the seventh office floor overlooked the factory below. It was clear that the inner ring had multiple floors, but it looked like they must be fewer in number, and much taller. The massive space inside this uppermost floor was crammed with heavy, polished hi-tech machinery. They formed what appeared to be production lines, many of them squatting over conveyors that ran most of the length of the floor, carrying persocom chassis from one end of the line to the other. A large corridor-like structure bisected the area down the middle, disappearing into the distant curvature of the far wall. Its dark, translucent surface was peppered not with doors but hefty access ports that didn't look like they were for pedestrian use, generally set at waist-height and often opening directly onto the production conveyors. Chris could see large silhouettes behind the dark exterior, shuttling rapidly back and forth along the inside at alarming speed. He observed one as it rocketed up to the end of the channel, briskly depositing something at the final access port before hurtling the length of the factory floor and vanishing into the far wall.

"Okay.. I don't know what I'm looking at down there, but it's fascinating." Chris murmured, resisting the urge to press his face against the glass. Not a whisper of sound came to his ears; indeed, all the commotion below was inaudible behind the thick glass at which they stood.

"The middle of the building is mostly factory space; offices and ancillaries tend to exist in the rings. We'll be down there later," James beamed, clapping Chris on the shoulder. "You'll love it, I promise." His persocom nodded in agreement.

"Yes. But the design is complicated. Let's examine this building in a little more detail before we explore the factory floors." Holly said, motioning for Chris to follow her. She led them into an unoccupied office which couldn't have belonged to anyone, on account of not being stuffed with marketing gear and the sort of strange artefacts this office seemed to collect.

"You're not required to memorise this; it's just to give an impression of how the building comes together." Holly said. Her eyes flashed and the transparent walls flicked to an opaque state, plunging the room into darkness. A moment later the inside wall lit up, a map of the building's interior superimposed on it in isometric relief. The various floors were separated and blown apart so the contents therein could be seen. It was immediately apparent from the diagrammatic representation that the inner areas of the building were indeed mostly production space, but there were examples where this wasn't entirely the case. The inner ground floor contained... something, whatever it was. The first floor seemed to be half factory, with the other split between things like canteens and kitchen space and other facilities Chris couldn't quite discern from the renderings of their contents. Perhaps persocom and building maintenance? The second and third floors were fairly consistently for production, and it seemed lots of office space ringed them in the smaller, more numerous floors on their circumference. Small offices and rooms were also dotted around the very outside of the building in the outer wall of the atrium, which did indeed appear to encircle the entire building as he had suspected, albeit offset from its center such that it was widest at the front entrance and narrowest at the back.

"What's that?" Chris said, pointing to the odd corridor he had seen out on the uppermost factory floor. Now it was drawn on a map he could see it was far bigger than he had assumed, extending not only to the back of the factory but down through most of the other floors except for the ground level. It barely touched the first floor, dropping in at the center from the floor above, to land in the factory that took up half of that level. In the places where it reached the back of the building it continued on to permeate a further set of buildings hanging off the back of the main circle which Chris hadn't even known were there.

"This is the Spine." Holly explained. "Consolidating the factory floors inside the centre of the building was great for productivity, but it bottlenecked the way goods and materials could enter and leave the structure. The Spine fixes that problem; it's our high-speed goods and materials network for the factory floors and our other facilities, such as these," she pointed to the more traditional square-shaped structures that grew out of the rear of the main circular building. "Stores for finished goods and raw materials are situated inside here."

"You said the Spine fixed the problem... What did you use before the spine?" Chris asked. Holly smiled, and the diagram changed, four of the office floors and all but the lowest of the large inner factory floors disappearing.

"A good question. We currently have seven outer-ring floors, and four in the inner circle. But historically this building comprised just a couple of outer floors, and only one in the inner circle, for the original factory. Materials would traditionally enter the factory through an underground tunnel and the production process would take place in an anti-clockwise circle, such that when it was finished, it was back at the tunnel entrance and ready to be moved to storage. This maximised floor space while allowing goods to enter and leave the factory rapidly."

She indicated the area on the map where the old tunnel used to be, running from the side of the original factory floor to intersect the right-hands stores building behind it.

"As the business grew further, production capacity had to increase. This necessitated extra floors, which required goods to be moved between them. It also meant the quantity of goods handled would be increasing, and so a better means to feed the production lines and clear out finished product was needed. LOKI was built on the original factory floor, and the subsequent floors above were added to replace it and extend capacity. The Spine was implemented and penetrates all the upper factory floors, functioning as an automated goods and materials handling system."

Chris looked at the inner ground floor. So that was LOKI? He didn't have time to consider this, though; they were still explaining the Spine.

"It's an extraordinarily efficient design, in terms of output for square footage of floor space" James explained, pointing at the guts of the building. "Everything starts at the bottom and works upwards. Look at end of the Spine on floors two and three. See how it doesn't quite reach the far wall? Raw materials and unfinished products from the lower floors go here. They are unloaded onto the production lines, and proceed down the sides of the floor. When they get to the other end they are either ready for the next floor, or finished, and the Spine collects them again, taking them where they need to go. The shuttles can move up and down, and along the structure extremely quickly without any people to get in the way."

Chris studied the diagram in fascination. It was elaborate, yet elegant. He wondered how the Spine was automated and how that integrated with what the factories were doing at any one time. LOKI, maybe?

"Look at him, Holly!" James laughed, clapping Chris gently on the back. "We're blowing his mind right now."

"This place is incredible," Chris mumbled. How on Earth did he manage to land a job here, again?

"Yeah it is! There's no point looking at it on a map all day, though. Come on, let's go check it out." James pulled open the door, and the glass flashed into transparency again as they filed out into the office.

"We will start at the first floor, which you'll recall from the map contains the smallest factory: that's Neurolectrics. From there, we move up to Mechatronics and Engineering and finally Chassis Completion, which you just saw through the office windows." Holly said, as she led the way towards a set of opaque partitions that Chris realised were a little different to the others as they drew closer. They were in fact a set of lifts for traversing the floors, subtly made to blend in with the rest of the office space.

"Chas-comp hate that the other two factories have more impressive names." James chuckled as they walked inside. Chris spotted Caz a little way down the office aisle hurrying cheerfully towards them, but Holly's eyes flashed and the lift closed its doors immediately, beginning its silent descent. She glanced guiltily at Chris, shaking her head as if to indicate she couldn't stand another minute with the pink-haired persocom.

James didn't notice, absorbed as he was in his musings. "Hmm... As I recall, I think they were petitioning to have it renamed to something else, but what could you possibly call it? Chassis Completion is pretty spot on, really."

"What kind of stuff do they do there?" Chris asked.

"Primarily, it's the final touches to the assembled persocom units from lower levels. Accessory modules are installed, if necessary, but their most important task is the skin. Skin needs to be added to the chassis as a final step, at least in our production process; it's different for some other manufacturers, I understand. It's not very glamorous if you ask me, but it's obviously a crucial part of the process!" James laughed at that, but Chris was busy thinking.

"How about… Dermal-tech? D-Tech, for short? Or Integumentation? Those both sound pretty swanky."

Holly's eyes flashed. She smiled. "LOKI finds them interesting. They will be added to the list of suggestions."

James clapped Chris on the shoulder again. "Hah! You're going places, mate! LOKI likes forward-thinkers."

"Oh - I didn't mean to interfere-!" Chris began to apologise before Holly interrupted.

"You're not interfering, you're contributing. That's encouraged. NEIS operate an agile bureaucratic environment here, and LOKI mediates a lot of the decision-making processes; everything from what the restaurant menus should offer this week, to what materials to order in anticipation of demand for the next quarter, to big departmental and inter-departmental decisions that affect the structure or functionality of the company. Meetings are poor for productivity, so we keep them to a minimum; if the employees can collaborate on ideas dynamically throughout their workday, without interrupting themselves to sit in a room for an hour of discussion, it benefits everyone."

"That's for later though, let's concentrate on the now." James said, as the lift chimed their arrival to the first floor. The lift opened into a corridor covered in doors that must lead to places further around the ring. They walked out and turned right, heading towards the middle of the building instead. The corridor soon ended at the side of another which followed the curvature of the inner wall, and the windows ahead revealed a very different factory environment to the one Chris had seen from the seventh floor.

Chris walked up to the window to stare. There were no enormous sweeping glass partitions here; the windows were small, built into thick walls with large seals around their circumferences. The floor inside was smaller than upstairs, its semicircular shape encompassing 'only' half the enormous space within the inner wall. It looked like the innermost portion of the factory was divided into another smaller crescent by floor-to-ceiling walls. Through the little windows therein, he could just glimpse the tail-end of the Spine, dropping into the space through the roof. It looked very different too, its few access ports much smaller. Or so it seemed; it was hard to see from that far across the factory floor, especially with all the equipment in the way.

That drew his attention to the equipment. Chris had thought it was clean enough upstairs, but everything in here looked pristine, and a lot of the machinery was not bulky, but instead delicate. Precision instrumentation he did not recognise were arranged neatly on the work surfaces, and the people within walked around in strange coveralls with masks over their face and caps covering their hair. Chris could see the floor was still clearly arranged as a production line. Product was flowing slowly along the curvature of the floor, although it seemed to slide on rail-mounted jigs directly from machine to machine instead of by conveyor, and where it did leave a rail, it was carried exclusively by persocoms operating elaborate-looking carts which loaded and unloaded the jigs like cartridges.

"Why stand out here? Let's get inside!" James said, shepherding Chris along the corridor to what appeared to be a large airlock and changing room. They walked inside the chamber, which contained racks of the same clothes people were wearing inside.

"Put these on," James said, offering him a set that looked to match his size. Holly was already pulling a coverall up and over her shoulders. "They go over what you're wearing. Pop these straps over your shoes and tuck the end into your socks as well, please. And please don't touch anything once we're inside, okay? Antistatic and anti-particulate precautions, you see. We're dealing with extremely sensitive electronics in here."

Chris made a bit of a mess of it; his footwear was larger than the others' and the coveralls caught on them as he tried to pull them on. When he was finally zipped up he felt something tug at the cap on his head, pulling it a little lower at the back. He turned to see Holly looking him up and down, satisfied he was ready.

"This way please," her voice was a little muffled from the face mask. Her eyes flashed as she approached the airlock door; it hissed open before they walked inside, and clunked shut behind them. James tapped Chris on the arm to get his attention.

"Now don't be alarmed by this step, but there's going to be a-_FUCK_" James shouted as a strong gust of wind hit them in the top of the head and Chris jumped, looking around for the source. A moment later it was gone, and James sighed, ignoring Holly's intensely disapproving look.

"Bloody hell, it gets me every time... ah, sorry, naughty language..." he muttered, as the inner doors to Neurolectrics slid open. Immediately the noise of the floor reached Chris's ears. It wasn't the aggressive grumbling of heavy machinery, so much as the whine of servomotors, high-voltage electronics and air-moving devices.

"Right, then. As you might have been able to guess, this is where we build the neurologic hardware for every persocom we manufacture." James gestured around the factory floor, raising his voice over the noise. "Tell me, how much do you know about semiconductor fabrication?"

"Just a little," Chris admitted. The information wasn't all that easy to find on the web, but he had read about it on occasion. The processes were fascinating. "I've heard of the basic concepts, I'd say."

"Good enough! Good enough," James clapped his hands together, rubbing them cheerfully. A passing persocom glanced unhappily at his gesture; it was a surefire way to spread particulates into the pristine air. "Well, I can tell you we don't manufacture our own source crystal - they're shipped in - but we do fab our own wafers in-house. That actually happens in there," James pointed to the thick wall further towards the center of the floor. "All the photolithographic processes, etching, doping and dicing happen in there. But we can't go inside without proper environment suits and clearance. Maybe we'll gawp through the windows a bit later. Out here, we're packaging the finished dies and assembling the core. The 'brain' if you will. This eventually makes its way to Mechatronics for installation in the chassis, but it has to take a trip in the Spine to Quality and escape their clutches first, and that also takes days..."

Chris stepped aside as a procession of persocoms made their way to the inner airlock, only to move again to make way for another pushing a cartridge cart for the rail system. "There's so much going on here!"

"There is, but it might interest you to know that this is by far the slowest floor of the whole factory, in terms of turnaround. It takes a long time for the semiconductors to be completed, which hurts when there are defects that render some of them useless. Our current process is down to about 45 days. That's really very good, all things considered."

"What's the yield rate?" Chris asked, searching his limited semifab knowledge for something relevant to say. James chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't ask! But we're always looking to improve."

Holly chimed in as they began to walk along the factory floor, following the flow of the various products on the lines. "Development of Neurologic technology is a continuous endeavour. This department works very closely with R&amp;D in this regard - one of their departments is stationed a little further round the corridor on this floor."

James nodded in agreement. "Yes, R&amp;D exist in some capacity on most floors, as it happens. They need to keep their fingers in every pie to be truly effective. Must be a bit disconcerting, not really having an official department designation of your own. But hey, if it ever bothers them, nobody seems to complain."

"Will we get to see my department?" Chris asked, his voice faltering as he watched one of the mysterious cartridges disappear into the side of a large machine beside them. Through the viewing window he could see the cartridge break open, revealing delicate electronics inside. The machine selected a tiny board, lifting it away and locking it beneath what appeared to be an array of disturbingly long needles on a set of articulated arms. Those arms flew into action, their needles flicking up and down and across the board, moving so fast they were a blur. Chris realised they were electrical probes testing for continuity and signalling, each tip delicately making contact with a microscopic pad or test point, reading the result, and moving on. A display on the front of the machine showed the board schematic, flickering rapidly between the thousands of circuit paths on the board as it cycled through them.

"No, that'll be tomorrow. Just factories and LOKI for today! That'll be more than enough, believe me!" James laughed, gently steering Chris away from the machine. "Come on, we've got a lot to get through before lunch!"

* * *

The tour of the remaining factory floors had been fascinating. Each factory seemed to have its own distinct layout and working methodology best tailored to its needs, making for a highly varied environment in each. Chris had seen everything from the neurologic cores being wire-bonded into their housings to finished persocoms rolling off the line and into the Spine. It was both mentally exhausting and exhilarating, and he was buzzing with enthusiasm when they left the inner ring for the atrium once more.

"That was crazy," Chris said, drawing smiles from Holly and James as they walked the circumference of the enormous atrium on the way to the restaurant. "I heard it was complicated but I can't believe the level of assembly that happens here! It's just brilliant."

"Well, it's easier to control these processes when they're together under one roof. We've certainly got the room for it," James said proudly.

"It seems a bit more roomy than that! This place is huge! It's bigger than I thought possible."

James nodded. "Yep, easily a few million square feet if I remember, and this is only part of the overall complex - there are other buildings!"

They'd exited around the far right-hand side of the inner circle, on the ground level; as the map they'd reviewed earlier indicated, the atrium's width was narrow here, its radius off-centre compared to the inner ring. Even so, in person it still felt very spacious, and James' voice bounced off the far wall as they travelled across the open floor.

"I wouldn't say they were nearly as essential as this one, but they're there nonetheless. What LOKI didn't tell you in the little intro presentation was NEIS aggressively pursued the rights to the land around here. It was supposed to be for a business park but NEIS managed to gobble up most of the development. LOKI generally leaves out that little detail."

They came upon a set of doors in the inner wall that looked a little different to the regular design. They were bigger than usual, and looked older, made of metal instead of the usual elegant glass and wood affair. Chris slowed down to look, but the doors were solid and certainly looked like they wouldn't open if he tried. "What's in there?"

For the first time that day, Chris thought he saw James' cheery demeanour fade away. "Ah… yes. The Closed Wing, we call it. Bit of a sore spot, really. It used to be shared space between R&amp;D and some of the product realisation groups. It was closed in the restructuring that saw the factory floors extended, and the two departments were consolidated and moved inside the inner circle. A lot of people lost their jobs; needlessly, most agree... it wasn't a good time for NEIS. LOKI was not happy when it came online and learned of what had taken place before it was installed - R&amp;D is actually a large part of its business strategy, so it's kind of ironic how they take up so much room and need so many staff now."

"Why's it sealed, though?" Chris pressed, and James shrugged.

"We're not using it. Frankly I'm surprised it wasn't re-occupied immediately by another department as soon as it was emptied. I guess it's a little out of the way round here by the side of the complex, and the departments that could use its facilities are better served by their current lodgings. It would take a lot of work to make it suitable for other departments... Hmm, now I think about it, about a year ago a there were rumours we might open it up as some sort of museum or tourist piece, but they've died out since. It used to contain a lot of the hardware necessary for working on our products because the staff would need to iterate on designs faster than the original single-floor factory could support. That would certainly have made a good showcase for how our products were made. But, hey… it's just how it is, I guess. LOKI will think of a use for it eventually, I'm sure."

Their walk carried them further around the circumference, back across the front of the building where the reception island floated inside its sea of empty space. After a quick lift ride to the first floor they kept going, heading around the other side now, and the noise of chatter and bustle slowly began to build, as did the number of colleagues who joined them on their journey. The noise was clearly coming from the restaurant entrance: a wide, doorless opening which delved into the inner circle.

James had explained the restaurant was a hectic affair even outside normal lunch hours, but to see it at midday made that statement somewhat unbelievable. By the time they drew close it looked like the entire company was flocking in its direction all at once. The trio poured themselves through the entrance along with the incoming crowd. The long entrance corridor inside curved around to the left, seamlessly melding with the beginning of the actual restaurant and expanding wider and wider still. The left wall ended abruptly where the actual seating began, thereafter revealing a wide additional area behind it filled with yet more tables, chairs and hungry people. A set of wide ramps gently inclined down there, connecting the large lower eating space with the upper deck. The right-hand wall, which continued on its rounded path, became a huge counter that connected the restaurant to the kitchens on the other side. Stood overlooking the scene, Chris could see the restaurant formed something of an oval inside the floor in which it was built - almost as if someone cut two thirds out of the middle of a circle and stuck the end pieces together. He knew Neurolectrics and their R&amp;D division took up an exact 50% of this level in the inner circle, but what lay on the other side of the restaurant wall? He tried to recall the floor diagrams from earlier... maintenance, maybe? And the kitchens and storage?

"What would you fancy?" Holly asked, taking Chris by surprise. He quickly scanned the menus, displayed on monitors on the wall.

"Oh... anything with chips would be great. That chicken burger sounds good, maybe I'll have that!" he said, fumbling for his wallet.

"One chicken burger and chips..." Holly's eyes flashed as she nodded in acknowledgement.

"You won't need the wallet." James told Chris, patting his hand away from his pocket. "It's all covered by the company. Very generous, eh! It's the least they could do really… besides giving us some of the most interesting jobs in the world and paying us for it, that is!" He chuckled, rubbing his hands together with glee.

"And a drink?" Holly asked, looking at Chris expectantly.

"Did you... are you placing an order?" Chris asked the persocom. She nodded again.

"Of course. It's much quicker than you ordering at the counter."

"Wow. Oh, uh... tea, would be great, thanks."

"Same for me please, Holly." James chuckled. "Come on Chris, did you really think a persocom manufacturing company wouldn't take advantage of persocom abilities at every opportunity? Why would we order lunch any other way?"

He pointed to the line they were joining. It moved very quickly for a lunchtime queue.

"Here, take a look. Have you noticed how the queue is mostly persocoms? They queue a lot more civilly than humans do, and they can move more dextrously in tight proximity to each other. Watch."

Chris could see that the persocoms ahead in the queue were hardly stopping when they reached the counters. Instead, persocoms on the other side walked straight up alongside specific units with their orders, wordlessly handing them over without slowing before veering away and back into the heart of the kitchens. These orders - trays with plates, or bags to go, drinks and all - were deftly accepted and carried away without missing a beat. The line only really stalled when a human in the queue reached the counter.

"Some people like to eat at their desks and will send their persocom down for their grub, and others just can't be arsed to stand in line. Either way, it's much more efficient to keep human involvement to a minimum here. The same is true for several areas of the company, actually, but no truer than here!"

By now they had reached the counters. Sure enough, they stalled the line as they stopped to accept their trays, thanking the kitchen persocoms who handed them over much more carefully than they did to their own kind. Chris was sure that kind of caution was unnecessary.

"I tried it," James said to Chris, reading his mind. "Did work a couple of times, but then I managed to throw a tray all over the floor and look stupid in front of half the company. It's better to slow down and pick them up like we're supposed to." He chuckled, scanning the restaurant in front of them before leading their little procession across the dining floor and down the ramps to the lower deck. "Let's try the corner. I like the corner!" Sure enough, there were a few sparsely-populated tables tucked into the corner where the curved outer restaurant wall came back around to meet the inside wall of the entrance corridor.

James made a beeline for a table occupied by an attractive young woman in a NEIS company polo shirt. Long, straightened brown hair framed a face with cute features that scowled the moment James drew near. She gave him the finger as he and the others were taking their seats.

"Fuck off, you!" she said, unable to keep the scowl in place and snorting inelegantly into her food. James grinned as he dropped his tray on the table opposite her. Apparently they knew each other well.

"Sooo, I see-"

"No! Shh! Don't you even start." Her voice wavered as she fought the urge to laugh.

"- I see the Alphabet looked well this morning." James finished, wearing a charming smile.

"No! Bad. Shut up." she said, directing an amused glare at him before fixing large hazel eyes upon Chris, who now sat beside her. "Hello stranger, it's nice to meet you. Don't mind James, he's a bloody wind-up merchant. Name's Sarah Brookeledge."

"Chris Barker, I just joined." Chris said, smiling and offering his hand.

Sarah smiled back as she shook it. "Oh I can tell, nobody hangs around with _that_ bloody layabout if they have the choice!" she flicked a pea from her plate and it rocketed across the table, bouncing off James' nose.

"Disgusting table manners. Just appalling." James muttered, pretending to be offended as he took an unflatteringly large bite out of his burger. Holly regarded Sarah with disdain, but stopped when James subtly touched her arm. Chris might have pondered the rich array of relationship dynamics at play were it not for the food he was about to demolish being so distracting. He couldn't quite figure out how a burger that big was supposed to find its way inside his face... Why were they always so tall?

"So what are you in for?" Sarah said, her attention still on Chris.

"Software dev," he replied, still eyeing the burger suspiciously. Sarah's expression brightened.

"Ah, one of us! Welcome! Oh, we'll see each other again real soon, then. I'm in S-Dev too! We do all sorts of crazy things over there, it's a total playground. Right now I'm working on a next-gen behavioural matrix project and it is going to be the most awesome thing _ever_, you just wait and see."

"Actually he already has," James chuckled, turning to Chris. "Remember the Alphabet? They're the fruits of Sarah's labour. It's going awfully well, I must say. _Awfully_ well."

"I'm serious James, you leave my babies alone, we're trying something very different here!" Sarah admonished him, pointing her fork across the table with one hand while the other hovered by her plate. She seemed tempted to flick more food in his direction, but the look on Holly's face might have changed her mind.

"What do you know about Emotional Software Cortexes?" Sarah said, switching back to Chris in an instant. Chris blinked as he tried to catch up with the question.

"Oh.. uh, not a lot really, first I heard of it was today. A new type of behavioural matrix?"

That response earned him a derisive snort. "Pfft! Hah! Hahaha! Oh, of _course_... you heard this from James didn't you?" Sarah glowered across the table, but her playful look was deflected by an impish grin, so she continued. "Well that's not doing it justice at all. An ESC is a complete rethink on the way a behavioural matrix functions. One replaces the other, but they're barely comparable. It'll mean more realistic persocoms than ever before." Holly gazed at Sarah with a blank expression, but the woman avoided meeting her eyes, fixing them on Chris as she spoke. "It'll mean the line between artificial and genuine intelligence becomes even blurrier than it already is."

"Behavioural matrices are pretty good already, Sarah. They're certainly much closer to human-analogue than you've managed to achieve so far!" James teased. Holly glanced at him, her face unreadable, and he smiled disarmingly back.

Sarah sighed, chewing thoughtfully. "Yeah… yeah, I know. But I hope to build a fully functioning one someday. Someday soon. We'll do it… we have to. NEIS will be left behind if the team doesn't come up with our own ESC. You should see the buggers from KESS gloating about theirs on PSoc. '_First in the UK_', blah blah blah. Arrogant gits. Someone should remind them they're still a year behind the likes of Japan or Korea."

"Persocom Society," James said, explaining PSoc before Chris could ask its meaning. "It's an online forum for developers which used to be about passion for the technology. Now it's about bragging and willy-measuring, thanks in no small part to troublemakers like Sarah here."

"Please," Sarah sniffed indifferently, "Don't lump me in with those super-intelligent idiots. I read their self-centred drivel, that's all. Besides we're gonna crack it too, mark my words." She paused to snarf down a forkful of shepherd's pie, then switched subjects again, directing her attention back to Chris. "So where've you been today then? What've you done? Come on, spill the beans!"

"Oh, uh, the offices and factories so far." Chris said simply. Apparently that answer was insufficient. Sarah blinked at the reply and laughed. "Wow, he's fitting right in, James. Did you hear that? Such a detailed and enthusiastic description of his day!"

"Hey, I can talk your ears off if you like, I just figured you knew all the details already," Chris grinned, and Sarah raised her eyebrows, turning to her colleague.

"Oooh, I stand corrected, he was in fact _fascinated_. Truly, this is a testament to the quality of your tour-guide skills." Sarah chuckled.

"Hmm… I should do this full time, shouldn't I?" James mused, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Now that raises a _great_ question: what exactly _do_ you do around here? Nobody I talk to seems to know!" Sarah smirked victoriously over her plate, but James weathered the insult effortlessly.

"I'm actually the oxygen tester." he said matter-of-factly. "If I collapse, head for the nearest window!" The humans laughed at their banter, but Holly didn't join in.

"Oh come on Holly, we're only playing." Sarah said as she noticed the persocom's demeanour.

"James has an important job." Holly said reproachfully, looking intently at Sarah. "It is erroneous to suggest otherwise."

"So _defensive_!" Sarah gasped in amusement, "We know who wears the pants between the two of you, don't we?"

"Holly…" James smiled wearily, sighing as if he'd repeated these words many times, "People are allowed to have fun at each other's expense, okay? It's perfectly harmless."

"But in this case it devalues your contribution to the company." Holly stated, before turning to Sarah, "And please don't make such assertions about James and I. That is inappropriate." she sounded a little annoyed, but her expression was still neutral.

"But you two are _adorable_ together," Sarah wistfully clasped her hands and held them to her heart. "So cute!"

"We work effectively as a team." Holly said bluntly. Chris glanced at James, unsure whether to be amused or bemused, but the stocky man was momentarily occupied with his burger.

"Work effectively? Aww... I'll bet you do! Like two perfect peas in a busy little pod." Sarah spoke as if she found this endearing, but there was something calculating about the way she was looking at the persocom.

"That's hardly an accurate description." Holly retorted, her face still perfectly composed.

"Isn't it? How would you put it?" Sarah pressed, leaning forward. She seemed very interested in what Holly would say next.

"I would say we are productive together; a much more concise evaluation of our pairing that isn't tainted by your romantic hyperbole." the persocom replied, emphasising the last few words. The conversation was beginning to make Chris feel uncomfortable, but James laughing into his burger eased the sensation somewhat. The man nodded to himself, as if satisfied with the calibre of Holly's response.

The same could not be said for Sarah. "That's cold, Holly. Won't you at least admit you look good together? You know that, don't you?" she said reproachfully. Holly remained silent, at that. "Come on, you're the perfect duo! Ooo, what if we used you two for stock photography for the our short-form catalogues! Have you talked to the girls in marketing? How about that _lovely_ persocom, oh, what's her name… Caz, is it?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Sarah waved Holly's words away dismissively. "Nonsense! You get on _really well_ with her, right? I'm sure she'd be only too happy to help, when I get back to the office I'll get Tilda to send her a message-"

"Can we move the conversation on to something else?" Holly said, perhaps a little louder than usual. Sarah's eyes were locked on her face, studying the persocom's expression. Chris looked for himself - Holly's expression still seemed quite neutral, to him. What was going on?

James finally lowered his burger. "Right, that's enough! Leave her alone." He spoke sternly. Sarah shrugged, leaning back in her chair and wearing a sly smile. "You've had your fun. You don't anger the Holly. Never anger the Holly."

"Grow up, James." Holly grated. _Now_ the annoyance was visible on her face. It appeared he was the real weak spot in her armour. She glared daggers at him, and Sarah regarded the two of them with interest.

"Yes, Holly. At once, Holly!" James saluted, earning himself another scowl, before sitting up and wolfing down the rest of his food. "Mmn. Chris, are you nearly done? I think we should go and see LOKI for reasons that have _nothing at all_ to do with ending this conversation. See you, Sarah."

Holly and Sarah both gave him a flat look, but he was already getting up from the table and didn't notice. Sarah patted Chris on the arm as he stood, mouthing something that might have been "_see you later!_" or "_he's an idiot!_" before turning back to her meal.

Chris and James collected their trays and deposited them on one of the various collection racks that dotted the restaurant floor. Holly took the lead out of the restaurant, and James breathed a quiet sigh of relief as they walked away from the tables.

"Phew! Okay, off to LOKI we go. Should've known not to tease Sarah about the Alphabet. She always gets me back double. Winding up Holly like that… Should've known, should've known. Now Holly will be grumpy for the rest of the day."

"I will not!" Holly said, in a manner which sounded rather unconvincing. It seemed Sarah had struck a nerve. Maybe a few. Chris couldn't resist asking what that interaction had been about. "Why are Sarah and Holly so-"

"Incompatible?" James laughed, "It's strange to say, but Sarah's actually fascinated by Holly. Her behavioural matrix isn't quite 'standard-issue' you see. There were once a couple of guys in S-Dev who wanted to experiment with the way a behavioural matrix interacts with the learning capabilities of the neurologic platform. Holly's matrix is the result. Those guys have since left the company - for KESS, would you believe… and guess what they're working on! Yep. They're posting on PSoc about their progress on ESCs. Unsurprisingly, Sarah is convinced Holly's software will help her figure out the ESC puzzle, so she pokes and pushes her to see how she reacts to different stimuli."

"I'm an experiment to her? You never told me that!" Holly was incredulous, but James just nodded cheerily as he continued.

"Oh, certainly, but you're more than that, my dear. Sarah genuinely feels your involvement would be an important step in the right direction for her end goals. You know for a long time now she's wanted me to put you in the ESC project!"

"Sarah wants me to join the project? Are you going to let that happen?" Holly seemed visibly appalled at the notion, but James put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and his response brought a small smile to her lips.

"Holly my dear, I told her never in a million years!"


	16. Chapter 16

Holly drew to a halt in the middle of the first floor walkway, causing James and Chris to stop in puzzlement. She turned her head slightly, as if hearing something beneath the bustle of the people flowing around them. "Just a moment," she said, her eyes glazing over and flashing lazily. The persocom turned around and pointed back along their path. "This way. We're moving the schedule around."

This didn't please her work partner. "No…. nooo, don't say that!" James moaned, wringing his hands.

"What's happening?" Chris asked, as they began retracing their way through the thronging masses.

"There's been a change of plans. You need to collect your persocom now." Holly explained. James swore under his breath, muttering to himself. Somewhat bizarrely, his normal cheerful demeanour had all but vanished.

"Why? What's the matter?" Chris pressed, slightly bewildered by the other man's irritation.

James scowled as he replied. "If I'm guessing right, we've a problem in Mechatronics." Holly nodded sympathetically and he swore again. "Ahh shit, I _knew_ that part was out of spec. How many?"

"Thirty thousand, prepped and packed." Holly replied. She might have slapped him in the face, the way he looked at her then.

"What?! _Thirty K_? What the hell happened to the sample batch? Oh for-! I bloody told them and all! This is what I get for handing off that bloody project so soon!" the stocky man fell silent, took a deep breath and relaxed a little. When he next spoke, he sounded more like his usual self. "Never mind! Never mind. This is good for learning. OK Chris, so what's happened is an easily avoidable problem has been allowed to grow into something much bigger: Mechatronics have a production part on the factory floor not fit for purpose. Now they have to halt production and shuttle the goods off for rework. Unfortunately, this will absorb enough of the Spine's capacity that it won't be able to handle nonessential carriage without affecting the other factories. Not for several hours, probably."

Holly nodded, getting to the point. "This means your persocom's delivery has been expedited to clear the log. We'll need to make the collection quickly; the maintenance manager wants us in and out because there's going to be a rush of traffic round there before Mechatronics commandeer the Spine."

"Oh, I see... that sounds awful." Chris managed. Truth be told, he was trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. Getting to meet his persocom a few hours early was no bad thing, as far as he was concerned! It was hard to feel sympathetic for Mechatronics just then. It was even harder not to grin like a child about to skip dinner for ice cream. Holly raised an eyebrow at him, and he tried not to blush; his impassive expression wasn't fooling her, at least. He'd heard of persocoms with biometrics software before... that must be how she knew. If true, it was as much interesting as it was embarrassing to be so readable. Could she see through James just as easily? His mind wandered back to the cryptic words she'd said to him in the offices that morning.

Maintenance was located on the same level as the restaurant; it was one of the facilities taking up the space not swallowed by Neurolectrics in the inner circle. Its entranceway opened into a foyer of sorts; something of a large waiting room where corridors branched to and from the various maintenance facilities available, many relating to persocoms rather than the building itself. Of course, Holly had mentioned persocoms had everything they needed here. It was indeed busy; there was a lot of pedestrian traffic moving in and out of the space, and a queue was rapidly forming at the right-hand side of the foyer. It trailed out of a wide doorway labelled "Pickup and Drop-Off".

A few humans staffed the centre, patrolling the bustling floor. One approached them immediately, looking more than a little harassed.

"Can we help you?"

"We're only here for PIDO - just a collection," James said, waving the man away. That seemed to be what he was hoping for; he nodded gratefully and hurried away to attend to other arrivals.

They joined the back of the fast-moving queue. Stood in line, Chris couldn't help but turn his mind to his new persocom. Any moment now! What would it look like? What unit class? A miniature? He rather hoped so; a full sized unit would be all kinds of trouble. He lived in a tiny little flat… what if he had to take it home with him, like so many employees did theirs? It would be a while before he could move somewhere bigger. There was a pokey living room-kitchen combo, a toilet, and a bedroom... Where was it going to stay?

Voices were rising at the foyer entrance, people shouting to get out of the way; a persocom was half-limping, half-dragged through the busy passageway, her arms thrown over the shoulders of two men who hurried her across the room. She was trailing fluids from her leg, which appeared smashed below the hip, her clothes and skin torn and the substructures broken and twisted. Facility staff ran up to the men, grilling them for information and rushing her down one of the corridors as the crowd looked on and murmured in surprise.

"Holly?" James said quietly. Holly's eyes flashed.

"Mechatronics. Something broke free of the lathe."

"What the fuck are they using those for on today's order book?" James growled, losing his temper once again. "Don't tell me: It's the bloody part for rework, isn't it."

Holly nodded after a moment's concentration. "Yes. Apparently an attempt at a time-saving exercise."

"Right, then send a message to the floor supervisor, please. Someone endangered that persocom trying to save a few pointless minutes on their work order and they need a foot up their arse."

"Thirty other persocoms have just done the very same thing." Holly replied, as they followed the queue into the PIDO zone. It was not unlike a mail-room for a courier service, except the mail could apparently be anything from letters to enormous crates of goods that needed wheeling away. It looked a little out of place in a Maintenance department, as if it had been added as something of an afterthought.

"Well send another one then. And I need to talk to Arthur about this; let's sort Chris out with his unit and then could you put me through? Bloody morons," James huffed, still grumpy about Mechatronics. "…thanks, Holly."

"Will she be okay?" Chris asked with concern. Both James and Holly nodded reassuringly, taking him by surprise. He'd expected worse news after seeing the damage.

"Oh, completely. Don't worry, she'll be good as new within a few hours, I can promise you that." James said, about as encouragingly as could be possible with a voice so gruff with annoyance.

"Sometimes bad accidents happen in factories; that's the nature of the job. If it's a human involved, it's a big medical problem. If it's a persocom, we can usually fix them immediately, and everything will be okay. Please don't let this play on your mind." Holly added.

"It's just in this instance it shouldn't have happened in the first place; it was an unnecessary risk and that's unacceptable. We do _not_ work that way here. We look after our people _and_ our persocoms." James said firmly.

"You know, if you took on more responsibility you could make sure things like this didn't happen." Holly said tactfully, "The position is still available to you if you wanted. Arthur would authorise it in a heartbeat."

James rolled his eyes. "Not again, Holly. I _don't_ want it, it's... boring. I like what I do just fine."

Her line of conversation shut down before it could begin, Holly sighed visibly. Ahead of them a counter could be seen, a persocom busily ferrying packages to and from a set of shelves and an allocated floorspace for large crates and boxes. Behind all that, there appeared to be a lift shuttling staff and goods between PIDO and the floor above. It didn't look like the Spine; the Spine only reached into Neurolectrics on this level, and besides, this looked like a freight elevator. Perhaps the Spine was adjacent to it upstairs, though. That must be how they moved packages in and out of the system.

Holly engaged in a silent exchange with the persocom behind the counter as they approached, and he wordlessly handed over a shoebox-sized brown package that Holly immediately passed to Chris. She smiled as if she could measure his excitement. If fact, she very probably could.

Chris handled the little box with utmost care. So… this was to be his persocom. A miniature unit, clearly. That would be perfect! He couldn't deny the euphoria of the moment was somewhat dulled by the last few minutes' events, but nonetheless that bubble of elation in his chest reappeared and began to grow.

"Let's get out of here." James grumbled, leading them away from the bustle and back out into the atrium walkway. He quickly calmed down as they put distance between themselves as the maintenance area; by the time they reached the atrium lifts he was smiling and chuckling as usual. Chris was beginning to think the man was a little bit volatile.

They travelled to the ground floor and led him to one of the reception rooms a few minutes' walk away. James stayed outside while Holly let Chris in. This room contained less chairs than the one he used that morning, and featured a long table with seating at the front which could have been used to host small talks or presentations in front of an audience.

"You may unbox your persocom now. We're going to leave you in here while you do that; the Mechatronics incident needs our attention for a moment." Holly indicated towards the table before heading outside. She popped her head back around the door a second later, flashing him an uncharacteristic grin, "Besides, it's much nicer to meet your new persocom in private! Nobody will disturb you. Come out when you're ready, we'll be nearby."

As quickly as that she closed the door, leaving the room covered in a thick blanket of silence. Chris looked down at the little box in his hands. Nondescript and made of plain cardboard, it bore nothing but a small NEIS logo in the corner. He walked to the table and gingerly set it down. It wasn't difficult to open at all, folding apart to reveal its spartan contents; just an instruction manual, and a little persocom underneath it, nestled into the foam packaging.

There was no force on Earth that could make Chris read through that instruction manual just then! He set it to one side and studied the persocom with fascination. She couldn't be so much as seven inches tall, even with the two shoulder-length ponytails of deep red hair growing out from behind her head. A comms panel with IO ports wound its way between her ears, cleverly made to look like a hairband nestled into her hair, and itself obscured by a little bell tied to it with a blue ribbon fashioned into a bow. She was swaddled in her only set of clothes; a deep blue t-shirt to complement the ribbon, under a short-sleeved green jacket and oversized earthen-coloured trousers which ended loosely draped around a small pair of boots.

Chris lifted her gently from the box; she had a definite weight to her that didn't give an impression of delicacy, but he held her as if she were made of blown glass, cupped in his hands just a few inches off the table surface. There was a tiny button behind her ear, hidden beneath her hair. Thinking he maybe should at least _glance_ at the manual, he pressed it.

The little persocom stirred in his hands, eyes opening to reveal irises reminiscent of ruby gemstones. For the moment she did nothing but lay there, gazing blankly into the middle distance. Chris considered reaching for the manual again, but before he could make up his mind she leapt to her feet with a ferocious suddenness that made him jump. The little persocom scanned the room with curiosity before settling her attention on him. When she spoke, her voice was small and high-pitched, but not unpleasantly so; just as if were scaled to her size.

"Boot sequence completed. Good morning. I am your new NEIS Minito 530. Please recite the confirmation code found in your instruction manual to begin my configuration."

"Oh, uh… actually it's the afternoon." Chris said, looking up at the clock on the wall. "See?"

The little persocom followed his gaze. "Good afternoon! What time is it?"

Chris stared at her blankly, and she smiled back at him. She couldn't read an analogue clock? Ah, of course - there was no software configured yet. She must be minimally functional for the setup procedure.

"It's one thirty in the afternoon." he said.

"Okay! Please recite confirmation code." she repeated. Chris set her down carefully on the table where she stood waiting expectantly as he flicked through the manual.

"Page 337," the little persocom prompted. Chris nodded, flicking to the correct page.

"Seven-A-seven-three-B-B-one-nine-H-J-X-P-K" Chris read the code slowly, making sure to pronounce it clearly. This seemed to satisfy her.

"Accepted! Would you like to give me a name?" She looked up at him, gently bobbing up and down on her toes with bountiful energy. A name? What to name her? Chris began to panic. He was rubbish at this sort of thing! Oh, he'd had all day to prepare for choosing a name; why didn't he think up a few then? Her tiny little bell tinkled in time with the bobbing motion, like a metronome counting out the seconds.

_Tiny… well, everything about her is small... ah, that will be cute!_

"Titch!" he said, without a second thought.

"Thank you! My name is Titch." she said, beaming. Chris immediately wondered if he'd made the right decision. What would a typical person call their persocom? Should he have chosen a 'proper' human name? But hearing her repeat it cemented the idea; it seemed... right. That was all the thought he could spare on the matter; answering her first question had opened the floodgates, and the little persocom was already grilling him for more settings and data. He rattled out answers as best he could, skipping a few he didn't understand for later, when he'd have time to read that manual. Titch asked plenty of questions about him personally, which he had not expected. Presumably she would use that data in some way to make herself more useful. She also wanted to see his existing keychain unit; she grabbed at it eagerly when he dug it out of his pocket, snaking a cable out of her hairband and popping it in the data port. Lights behind her eyes flashed and flickered rapidly as she rifled hungrily through his data, the IO LED on his keychain unit cycling faster than he'd ever seen before.

After several minutes of interaction he had sated her curiosity. Titch clapped her little hands in celebration. "We're done! I have anticipated the optimal personality settings and will adopt them now. You may adjust these in detail later if you wish." With that she closed her eyes and appeared for a moment to be deep in thought.

When she opened them again, she simply looked at him happily with a small smile on her lips. Chris blinked, not entirely sure what he had expected. Maybe a big grin? Or a more dour expression? A sigh, or a playful giggle? Whatever he'd thought might happen, it wasn't this. Titch seemed the same as her pre-configured state. Perhaps the changes were just more subtle than he realised? He wasn't even sure what parameters there were to configure specifically, but there couldn't be many on a miniature unit. Just another thing on the long list of stuff he'd need to learn about proper persocoms.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This is where I work." Chris said. It felt strangely good to say that; as if speaking the words finally bound them in truth.

"Great! What shall we do first?" Titch eagerly surveyed the room they were in. She pattered briskly around the table before eyeing him suspiciously. "There are no papers, documents, terminals or productivity equipment of any kind... Are you sure you work here?"

Chris laughed. "Well, not here specifically. This is a reception room. I don't know where I work exactly, yet. All I know is it's in this building!"

Titch frowned, apparently disappointed with herself. "I'm sorry, I can't locate that for you. Would you like me to try my radio gear?"

"Uh… sure?"

Titch nodded and her eyes flashed briefly as she changed some settings. "Hmm. Error: no valid settings found. Scanning for open access points." She squinted for a moment, and gasped in shock.

"Wo-ow! One moment please!" the lights behind her eyes danced rapidly. "There's so _many_!"

"Many…?"

"Persocoms!" Titch spread her arms in the air, turning and staring as if she could see them all around her.

"That makes sense!" Chris smiled. "This is where they _make_ persocoms! I think we better go see James and Holly now." he reached for her box, remembering to stuff the manual in his pocket first.

"Okay!" Titch squeaked, seeing what he was doing and grabbing a wayward piece of foam padding that had fallen on the table. It was huge in her arms, but she hefted it through the lid well enough before Chris closed it down. He got up and dropped the box in the bin at the side of the room. When he went back to pick Titch up, he realised he wasn't really sure how to carry her. He just threw away her box, and besides she couldn't go in there awake, that was ridiculous… but she couldn't hope to walk alongside him either; she'd get stepped on, assuming she could even keep up! How did other people do it? It was one of those things people did every day, but never really gave much thought to. Like someone without children trying to figure out how on Earth they're supposed to hold a baby - another thing that terrified him! Only, a baby wasn't aware if you were screwing up or not...

Titch cocked her head to one side, a motion that made her bell tinkle gently while she regarded him quizzically. The way she so patiently observed his hesitation made his ears warm with embarrassment. He decided to carefully scoop her into his palm, and she happily adopted a sitting position there, holding on to his thumb.

Sure enough Chris found James and Holly nearby outside the reception room doors. James talked to her, but the voice responding was that of an older-sounding man. It seemed she had connected a call to someone; probably this "Arthur" they had mentioned before. James looked significantly happier than he had several minutes ago; apparently the situation was being resolved to his satisfaction.

The call finished as Chris approached and both of them turned to see him with his new persocom. James grinned warmly, and Holly's face practically lit up with joy.

"Well done mate, she looks like a good one!" James said. His own persocom leant forward, wearing the happiest expression Chris had seen on her yet and inspecting Titch closely. "Aw... she's adorable! Aren't you lucky, Chris! And what lovely eyes!" Holly cooed, her usual air of indifference melting away.

Titch looked around wildly, wide-eyed. Her little ponytails whipped from side to side as she took in the bustle of the huge atrium, and her bell jangled as she looked every which way. She seemed a little overwhelmed by all the new data, shrinking into Chris's hand.

"Look here, little one." Holly said soothingly. Titch stared at her, bringing her focus in with some effort. "That's it," Holly smiled, "I'm offering my UUID, can you see it?"

Titch concentrated for a moment, and having found her signal, nodded quietly.

"That's wonderful. Can we talk for a moment?"

Titch nodded again, and the lights behind their eyes began to dance together. Holly's expression shifted several times, from happiness, to surprise, to satisfaction, and back again. She murmured occasionally as they continued their digital discussion. "Oh… ah, some customisations I see… well that's to be expected, you're an S-Dev unit. Let's see now… You should take this… and that will be helpful too. Ah, very good. This will help as well."

Eventually their eyes stopped flickering. Holly stood up contentedly. Titch shook her head vigorously as if clearing her mind and burst into a cheerful grin.

"All done! It was very nice to meet you, Titch." Holly said. She laughed in delight when the tiny persocom extended her hand. When she extended her own in return, Titch gently shook the tip of her finger.

"Nice to meet you, Holly!" Titch squeaked.

Holly smiled and turned to Chris. "Oh, she's marvellous! Now, this persocom is company property. Please keep her safe and well. I've provided her with the software suites you need for your work and a map of the main complex. She has high-bandwidth WiODA which I've configured so you'll get good network service; that's not normal in her model size. Don't worry, the company foots the bill for it but you two are free to use it however you please. I would suggest you have her accompany you at all times during your first few months in the building, such that you don't get lost."

"T-thanks!" Chris said. Titch seemed far more comfortable now; she looked around the atrium with an air of familiarity, although he could tell its contents were still new and fascinating to her. Her deep red eyes flicked rapidly between every moving thing in sight.

"Don't hold her like that, you lemon!" James chuckled at the way Chris cupped her in his palm. He pointed at his shoulder. "Titch, up!"

The tiny persocom nodded, hopping to her feet. Before Chris could react she had leapt from his hand and scrambled up his arm to perch on his shoulder. He froze in shock, afraid she might fall, but she sat there happily, perfectly balanced and swinging her legs.

"She's not made of china; you don't need to coddle her." James advised him. "If you let her figure out the details she'll be no hassle to carry around with you."

"Wow. That's... really cool." Chris mumbled, unconsciously standing very still.

James rolled his eyes and grinned as he turned to leave. "Come on then, newbie. LOKI is waiting."

"Oh… right! Sorry!"

"Don't apologise, it was LOKI's decision to switch this around. The delay will be expected. Just be glad you missed the _backache…_ heh, you get it? 'Cause the Spine, you know, all overloaded...? ...Come on, nobody?" James sighed as he took the lead. Taking an interest in Titch, Holly followed alongside Chris, who was trying his hardest not to walk as if he were participating in an egg-and-spoon race.

It wasn't easy; free to control her own locomotion, Titch was clambering all over him while they walked, her eyes sponging up every scene before her. He found it very difficult not to instinctively reach for her every time she moved, as if she were about to fall. She cooed with interest at the atrium and the people who passed them by.

As they neared the atrium's front reception desk, Chris began to notice many of the persocoms in the area were smiling and waving at him as they passed. Confused, he instinctively waved back at the next persocom to greet him; Mika, who giggled and and shook her head from behind the reception desk.

"Ah, Chris -" Holly tapped his arm, amusement in her voice. He realised it, then: the persocoms were actually focused on Titch. She was cheerfully pinging every single one in sight, waving as she introduced herself. Mika's laugh reached his ears again, and Chris immediately felt them burning.

"Greetings, Titch! Jolly nice to have you here!" a well-to-do voice called down from above. They looked up to see the Alphabet peering over the railing of the first atrium walkway. Chris winced as Titch shouted a retaliatory "Hi!" from beside his head. She paused mid-wave, her eyes flashing briefly, before she scrambled across the back of his neck to speak to Holly beside him.

"I have something to tell you!" she chirped. Chris cried out in alarm when she nimbly leapt free of his shoulder, clearing the distance to land on Holly's like some kind of two-legged cricket. Without missing a beat she leaned in and planted a tiny kiss on the bigger persocom's cheek. "That's from C!" she whispered, beaming.

Holly glared daggers at the incorrigible persocom on the walkway above. A and B recoiled as if she'd pointed a gun at them, but C just gazed back dreamily, looking for all the world as if he'd been able to plant that kiss himself.

"As I was _about to say_: I suggest you change her privacy settings as soon as you are able." Holly muttered, plucking a giggling Titch off her shoulder and handing her back to Chris.


	17. Chapter 17

The corridor the group walked along was quite dim and unwelcoming. The spaces down here lacked the airy, appealing aesthetics of the higher levels, and it was clear there was very little footfall in this part of the building, at least compared to everywhere else. The floor was carpeted in here as well - it had the strange effect of absorbing all the sound in the little passageway, making it feel eerily quiet and enclosed.

"It is suboptimally lit for humans in here." Titch commented, swinging her legs from her perch on Chris's shoulder. "Advisory: light intensity should be raised."

"An energy saving measure," Holly explained, as Chris studied the dim striplights lining the top of the corridor. "There isn't great need for light down here; LOKI doesn't need much human company."

Titch frowned at the other persocom; apparently that hadn't been a satisfactory response. "Chris will bump into things." she warned, causing the man in question to sputter in protest.

"I will not!" he managed indignantly, as James snorted a quiet laugh.

Titch patted the side of her human's head. "It's okay Chris, I will call out if you are about to fall over something." she whispered reassuringly. As much as Chris wanted to maintain an air of mild outrage, he couldn't help but chuckle; this little persocom was growing on him quickly.

"I'm glad you're so well-behaved, Titch." he said.

"Why's that?"

"It's because you're so adorable, you could probably get away anything you wanted." Holly sighed, bowing her head regretfully. Once the Alphabet had found them in the atrium, C wouldn't stop asking Titch to convey irritating little 'messages' to her. The tirade of angry transmissions she eventually hurled at him used up so much bandwidth that every persocom in the vicinity had stopped to experience the explosion.

James grinned teasingly, giving her a playful nudge. "Ahh Holly, it's not so bad. Look on the bright side, at least none of us humans could hear it!"

"That was definitely for the best." Titch said solemnly, making Holly groan under her breath.

"Let's just get on with this." she grumbled.

"Nearly there, nearly there." James said, leading them through another set of doors and turning left. Chris had been trying to keep track of their orientation with reference to the center of the circular building since they left the atrium. He knew they were heading beneath the factories, but only because of the map Holly showed him earlier that day. It was a maze, down here!

"Ah! Here it is." James pointed at the heavy-set metal door they were approaching. Notices printed on the metalwork indicated that the door was to remain closed at all times. Another unfriendly warning indicated that all attempts to access the interior would be logged. James turned to his persocom. "Holly?"

Her eyes flashed. For a moment, nothing happened. Chris jumped as an enormously loud _THUNK_ rang the metalwork from the other side of the door; heavy solenoids pulling the locking mechanism apart. It slowly began to swing inward, revealing a vibrant starfield floating in inky blackness. Titch cooed in fascination, leaning forward. Chris thought he could hear her optics adjusting faintly beside his ear.

She wasn't the only one; Chris had to blink, his own eyes acclimatising to the darkness between the stars. No, not stars - lights. _Thousands _of them. Twilinking and flickering with electronic activity, they decorated the racks and cabinets of equipment that were just about visible in the dimly lit space. The sound of countless of fans moving air thrummed through the opening. It reminded Chris of the server room back in the Sys Eng building at University, only on a much, much, _much_ larger scale.

"Watch your feet," Titch cautioned, true to her word as they carefully stepped over the tall base of the doorframe and onto the pristine tile flooring inside. The lighting automatically activated, emitted overhead by a grid of striplights that hung from steel cord embedded into the high ceiling. It was still dim, but Chris could sense the scale of the room they were now in; it was easily a match for the factory floors above, if the curvature of the wall they just passed through was any indication. The tall cabinets full of humming machinery were blocking his view of anything beyond his immediate surroundings, but as they walked between them, it became obvious that making their way to the centre would take a little while.

"Almost there," James said a couple of minutes later, as the rows of blinking cabinets passed them by. "I reckon it's time to tell you about LOKI. The name stands for-"

"Logical Knowledge Interface!" Titch chirped happily, grinning at Chris. She looked pleased that she could provide the information.

"- That's right! Holly taught you that, huh? Its ultimate design goal was to meld the intelligent decision-making capabilities of neurologic hardware with the big data processing capabilities of traditional chippery."

"Did it succeed?" Chris asked, staring in wonder at the equipment lining the racks. He could pick out the occasional server or blade system, and the switchgear and what might have been SAN boxes, but the rest was a bit of a mystery. Titch eyed the countless ports and cables among the racks with interest, but if she knew what they were for, she gave no indication.

"Succeed? A little too well, some might say," James chuckled. "We planned to sell the designs commercially, but when we realised what it was theoretically capable of we figured this one should really stay with us. Can you imagine what it's like trying to hide something like this from the- ah, never mind." he stopped talking at a sharp look from Holly.

"We don't talk about LOKI outside the company. It's _not_ a big secret, despite what some would have you believe; if it were, we obviously wouldn't be showing it to new employees." Holly insisted, "But nevertheless we would appreciate your discretion."

"Uh… No problem." Chris mumbled, somewhat confused. It certainly sounded like something of a secret. He glanced at Titch, who shook her little head in response... those statements seemed contradictory, as far as she was concerned.

"Let's say a hypothetical ketchup company sells ketchup. Obviously you know they make ketchup and must have a recipe for it, but you don't know what the_exact_ recipe is, and they wouldn't tell you if you asked. Does that help?" James chuckled.

"Condescending as it sounded... yeah, maybe it does." Chris grinned. The expression slid off his face when they cleared the final set of racks, arriving in the centre of the massive room. Stood before them was a large circular podium bristling with wires of varying thicknesses; they snaked to the ground or climbed into the overhead gridwork, spidering away into the distance. Upon the podium stood several rows of cuboid structures, supported on strong metallic pedestals at each corner. Cables seemed to grow out of the sides of each cube, and flexible piping from the top, ostensibly circulating cooling fluid into and out of each one. The density of the cables overhead blocked out much of the dim illumination from the ceiling grids, such that the whole podium was cast in shadow except the eerie green-blue glow of the equipment in the surrounding racks. Titch made a quiet appreciative noise beside Chris's ear as Holly walked up to the podium.

"You are now looking at the heart of LOKI. Or perhaps we should say the 'mind'. The rest of LOKI exists in the equipment that fills this room. It may seem excessive, but you must understand: at the time of LOKI's conception, neurologic hardware was very effective at the tasks for which it was originally intended - namely intelligent decision-making, deeply comprehending written language and speech, and true machine vision - all things which were very difficult for normal computers to do. However, it was a big step backwards in other respects, and when it came to the kind of work normal computers excel at - running generic applications very quickly, crunching large amounts of data and performing mathematical calculations on a vast scale - neurologic hardware was very inefficient and comparatively slow. This limited their usefulness in many economic sectors such as telecommunications, industrial applications, finance, and medical and scientific fields, all of which required hardware with high conventional performance before they would entertain the notion of buying persocoms instead of normal computers."

Holly walked over to one of the cables protruding from LOKI's core, using her hand to indicate its path overhead to a nearby rack of servers. "LOKI completely eradicated this shortcoming by combining the two different forms of logic - something that at the time was considered infeasible - thus allowing a neurologic platform to excel at both types of computation."

James folded his arms, smiling proudly. "Of course things are different now - modern neurologic hardware is really very good at general purpose computing - but back then it was groundbreaking. Even today, LOKI is enormously powerful both by neurologic and general purpose computing standards."

"Wow… So, uh... what do you use all that power for?" Chris asked. He could feel Titch clambering down his arm, but faced with the intensity of LOKI's presence, he was too enthralled to take notice.

"Short answer? _Everything_. LOKI operates the building, provisions and manages data storage for the company, supplies ample remote processing power if, for example, S-Dev or R&amp;D need to run some simulations or crunch numbers, and of course facilitates all the usual server-side stuff you might expect of a company network. That's not all; since it has all the data, it's only logical that LOKI analyse it. It practically runs the company these days. Any business decisions LOKI makes are vetted by humans of course, but they are hardly ever contested. LOKI is just too good at analysing the data and making the right call."

"Business analytics on a neurologic platform?" Chris said, making no attempt to mask how impressed he was.

"That wouldn't be doing it justice, really!" James laughed. "But you get the idea, yeah. Not all that uncommon today, either. You should talk to S-Dev about the projects they've won in high frequency trading."

"Who came up with the concept?" Chris said, gazing at the cuboid structures. Whoever it was, they thought big, clearly! James opened his mouth to explain, but they were distracted by the sound of Titch's little bell. It was a lot further away than it should have been. Chris turned around, searching the area.

"Titch?" he called, turning to the others. "I've lost Titch!"

"Ah, not good… not good!" James muttered, as Holly immediately began to scan the cable-ridden floor. Chris felt a rising sense of panic that seemed to be mirrored by the expression in the other man's face; whatever the curious persocom could get up to in here, it wasn't going to be good.

"Titch!" Chris called. He could hear the bell jingling, but the direction was unclear from the circular clearing amongst all the humming equipment. It might have been coming from a set of racks not far away...

"There!" Holly cried out, pointing in the same direction and darting forwards. Titch could just be seen near the bottom of the rack, reaching for one of the various comms ports with a cable snaking out of her head.

Chris lunged for the rack himself, James following suit. "Titch, don't!" he shouted; but she had already popped the cable in, her eyes flashing excitedly. Almost immediately her expression wavered towards confusion, as if something was wrong.

A deep, wailing claxon reverberated across the room, loud enough for Chris and James to squint in discomfort as they reached the rack with Holly. The siren blared mercilessly, pummelling their ears. Over the noise, several loud bangs could be heard in the distance; the thick security door solenoids were fusing themselves in a locked position, trapping them inside. Then the ceiling lights cycled out, plunging everything into darkness except the racks by which they stood. That inky black starfield seemed to surround them now, isolating them in a tiny island of luminescence.

"Holly, calm LOKI down!" James shouted. She nodded, tugging a cable from her ear and sticking it in a port on the rack. James knelt beside Titch, who stared into the darkness around them in terror. "Come on Titch, disconnect!"

The little persocom didn't need telling twice; She tugged her cable free, snaking it back into her hairband before she fled into Chris's arms. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she squeaked, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

"Holly?" James shouted, looking desperately at his persocom. She held up her hand to silence him, scowling. Her eyes were already flashing furiously and she grimaced in concentration. "Holly? ..._Holly!_"

"Will you give me a minute?" she snapped, closing her eyes.

"What's taking so long?"

"LOKI isn't exactly interested in listening to a security threat!"

"But we're not a -"

"I_ know that_, James, this isn't a household burglar alarm, so if you could please_ wait__ -"__  
_

_"_Just tell it we made a mistake!" James shouted, gesturing as if it were obvious. Holly rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh, for-! Great idea. Do you know the correct message protocol for '_oops, I'm sorry_'?"

"But can't you j-mmmpf!" James managed, before Holly clapped her a hand over his mouth. She muttered to herself as she worked. "Stupid block of bits… come _on_…" A few moments later the hopelessness was apparent on her face. She tugged her cable free. "He's not having it." She shouted back, allowing James to speak.

"Can you reach Arthur?"

Holly shook her head before he finished speaking. Apparently she'd already tried.

"Anyone?"

Shaking again. "No, we're cut off! What do we do now?"

James looked at a loss for ideas. "It's OK, Chris. Nothing to worry about." He yelled, with near zero conviction. "We'll just head for one of the doors...maybe..."

His voice trailed away. A heavy clumping noise could be heard approaching below the wail of the sirens, emanating from behind the racks nearby. All four of them turned to stare at its origin. There emerged an enormous mountain of a persocom, his irises glowing faintly in the gloom. An old model that must have been made for security, he strode purposefully towards them.

Titch squealed, and Chris yelled in protest as something snatched her from his grasp. An instant later he found himself restrained, gripped firmly by a pair of large hands. "Don't move!" a deep voice commanded, as he reflexively began to struggle. It didn't shout, but it seemed loud and easily audible over the wailing alarm. He noticed then some of the lights in the starfield were moving; the eyes of more persocoms, surrounding them, closing in.

James cried out in shock as Holly sagged to the floor. A slender female persocom in security uniform stood behind her, easing her to the ground. There was a cable snaking from her forearm into the side of Holly's head. "That's not necessary!" James tried to say, waving his ID badge before he was restrained as well. The enormous security unit hoisted Holly over his shoulder, clumping stoically away as the others lead Chris and James in his stead.

The blackness swallowed them, making it impossible for Chris to see what was happening, and the blaring alarm drowned out the sound of their movement. When Chris called out to the others, he was roughly instructed to remain silent. He stumbled frequently as he was shuttled down the dark aisles, but the hands gripping him did not allow him to fall. Their captors had no trouble in the dark at all. The way their irises glowed made sense to him, now; active infrared vision. Not exactly thermal imaging, but clearly effective in low light settings.

The sound of the alarm was changing, reverberating less and less; they were approaching a large solid object. _The wall_, Chris thought, as they drew to a halt. Sure enough, a loud metallic THUNK rang several feet ahead of them, and he squinted at the sliver of light that sliced through the opening door. This must be one of few that had not been sealed when the alarm tripped. From the silhouettes on the other side, it appeared it was guarded; perhaps an attempt to ensure the only way out would be straight into the clutches of security. At that point he realised the huge persocom who had carried Holly was nowhere to be seen. Neither was James, and Titch had been missing since the moment she was snatched from his arms.

Clutched in the hands of his captors, he felt his stomach drop. He was alone.

* * *

Chris tried not to let the panic set in. The carpeted corridor he expected on the other side of the door was nowhere to be seen. Instead there was an unwelcoming metallic floor, filling a small room which itself contained only a few miserable looking doors. It could once have been a maintenance accessway, but it appeared in this case to be part of the facility from which the security force operated. Were the others going to end up here too?

He soon found himself stripped of his possessions and seated in a cold room with the persocom who had captured him. Of strong build, he was slightly taller than Chris, and more than a little intimidating. The effect was somewhat ameliorated by the way he appeared rather disinterested in the situation, as if he were here only to check a box in a procedural exercise rather than for any real purpose.

That disaffection clearly didn't extend to his duties, though. The persocom leaned forward in his seat and looked at him coldly. "Who are you?" he said, his tone demanding a response.

"Well, I... Why are you asking me that? Can't you just check the network?" Chris replied, confused.

"Your little stunt has shut down the network; the whole building has ground to a halt. Now indulge me, and answer the question."

Chris understood, now. The persocom couldn't verify his identity if the network was locked down. Well, then he would cooperate; hopefully when it was clear he wasn't a threat, he would be free to go.

"Chris Barker, uh, NEIS employee. I just joined S-Dev."

"What were you doing in there with LOKI?"

"This is my first induction day. I spent it with James Ashburn from Mechatronics, and his persocom Holly. They took me to see LOKI as part of that induction." the security persocom looked at him, expressionless, so he ventured a question. "...Um, where are they?"

"What of the little unit who breached security protocol?" the security guard said, ignoring his question.

"She's my work-issued persocom. She isn't fully configured, I only just got her. All she knows about LOKI is the name, near as I can tell. I don't think she knew not to connect to any of the equipment."

"But you let her anyway." he replied, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question.

"No I bloody didn't!" Chris could feel his temper rising. He was still a bit dizzy from what just happened but now he was beginning to realise… this was an interrogation, wasn't it? "She did it without me noticing, and I'm sure she didn't mean any harm. She's been contacting other persocoms ever since she was activated... Where is she?"

"Why was a persocom who isn't fully configured allowed into LOKI's chamber?" The guard demanded. Chris clenched his fists in frustration.

"How am I supposed to know? It was LOKI's bloody idea, why don't you plug in and ask it yourself?!" He grated. He was beginning to want a human face to talk to. This bloody robot must have a screw loose! It was one thing to accidentally trip an alarm and be taken in by security; It was quite another to be subtly accused of sabotaging company servers! "Where are Titch and the others?" he repeated.

The persocom regarded him coolly, apparently unfazed by his outburst. Chris stared back, feeling combative. "Well? Where are they? Where's my persocom?"

"She's not your persocom." The guard corrected him.

"Whatever, where is she? Come on, tell me! What are you doing with her?"

"Standard protocol for security breaches."

"...What does that mean?" Chris demanded. _Standard protocol_. Those words filled him with a sense of foreboding that was immediately justified.

"The malfunctioning persocom will be analysed, and then disassembled." Came the disaffectionate reply.

"You can't do that, she didn't know any better!" Chris shouted. The guard raised an eyebrow, at that.

"Oh? It's just procedure. What do you care? You'll be issued another properly working one… assuming you're not found responsible and you get to keep your job, that is."

"She's already working properly, I'm sure of it! There's no need!" Chris pressed, but the guard didn't respond.

Chris gritted his teeth, sensing the hopelessness of the situation. There was no malice in his captor's voice, of that he was certain. But nor was there concern, nor empathy. Try as he might, there was nothing there he could to appeal to; and no logical reason, no computer-friendly assertion he could think of to justify why the company shouldn't destroy Titch. She was just company property, after all. Like the aggravating bucket of bolts sat in front of him. "This isn't… it isn't right. Give her back!"

"It isn't up to you. Or me, for that matter. It's just procedure, don't get so worked up."

Chris held the persocom's gaze. "And if it _were_ up to you, would you let her go?"

The guard got up and walked to the door. "Thank you for answering my questions."

"It would be polite to answer mine!"

"Wait here." he said, locking it behind him.

Chris stewed in his chair. The minutes rolled by, affording time for his frustration to well up inside his chest. There was nothing he could do... He tried not to think about Titch being disassembled, but something about it just felt wrong. It wasn't just a waste of good hardware! That was certainly true, of course, but more than that... he liked that little persocom the moment he saw her in her tiny box.

No, he couldn't accept this. He had to get her back. It should be possible, in theory... He knew how big companies worked; stock loss was just something that happened when you had so much product to move... if he could just...

_Just steal from your new employer?_

Footsteps were rapidly approaching from down the corridor. Cursing his bad luck, Chris abandoned his train of thought. What a foolish idea it was… as if he could have done anything to begin with! The steps stopped outside the door. Chris watched the handle's lock click, expecting the guard again, perhaps accompanied by police officers ready to take him away.

"Hello, mate." James said gruffly, throwing the door open.

Relief washed over Chris, the feeling in his chest melting away. This madness was over before it could begin! Even then, he couldn't help but vent a little. He fixed the other man with his best glare as he strode for the door. "James! What the hell is going on?"

"Good to see you too. Come on." the man sighed, gesturing for Chris to follow him. The security guard was waiting outside the door; he followed the men quietly as they walked away, and Chris made sure to shoot him a double-barrelled glare as well, while James continued to talk. "Look, I'm very sorry about this. I bet you were worried, huh? They split us up to question us separately, you see. I'm easy to verify as an employee and Holly's clearly company property, but they felt you were a bit out of place. You're not in trouble or anything, no-one to blame, accidents happen and all that. Just had to explain the situation, is all. Bloody hell. Oh, what a day!" James pinched his brow, as if trying to suppress a headache.

Holly was waiting for them in the security depot lobby. Chris was glad to see she was okay after the way she collapsed earlier. Perhaps 'okay' was a subjective term; the persocom wore an expression which could have frozen water from a thousand yards away. Even the guards seemed to be giving her a wide berth. Chris wondered why; wasn't she relieved that this was all sorted out? Why, she and Titch must have been...

Chris scanned the lobby. Titch was nowhere to be seen.

"Right, I think this was enough for one day. Holly's going to take you back to the main entrance while I sort out the rest of this mess, okay? Go home, relax a little. Assuming you want to come back after this, we'll see you tomorrow- "

"James, where's Titch?" Chris interrupted, that feeling of dread gripping him again.

James rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm getting to that. Listen, there's something I need to say. Titch… I'm very sorry, but she will - ah… yes, I see from your expression you already know."

"Wait, hold on. But… you just said this was all sorted out!" Chris said, a hint of panic in his voice.

"I said you're not in trouble. I'm sorry Chris, it was an accident, but there are rules-"

"What are you saying? Come on James, isn't there something you can do?" Chris pleaded.

"I'm sorry, no." the man said softly. There was genuine sympathy in his eyes.

"So… so… that's it?" Chris said, staring at his colleague in disbelief. He waited for a joke or a smile - something to indicate James was pulling his leg - but it didn't happen.

"That's it. I'm sorry. I did try, but the rules can't be bent on this one." James sighed dejectedly. Behind him, Holly's face darkened further. "Look, go home, rest, come back tomorrow and we'll… I'm sorry Chris, I know it sucks. It's not like losing a phone or a laptop. And to have only just met her too... it's such a shame... The problem is that chamber is full of all our corporate secrets, and it's difficult to truly securely erase neurologic hardware… you'd never let hard drives full of sensitive data leave a datacenter intact, even when formatted, you know? I think it's madness to apply it to this situation, but I just couldn't get anyone to listen… Just come find me tomorrow morning, okay? We'll talk about this some more."

James motioned for Holly to take over, and Chris didn't protest any further. He couldn't quite compute what was happening, and he almost didn't notice when Holly stalked towards the exit. "Please follow me." she said icily, not pausing to see if he would. In a daze, he silently complied, falling in step beside her. The footsteps of some of the security persocoms followed them, apparently ensuring they left the area.

Although Chris only felt hollow inside, Holly seemed filled with anger. He'd never seen her face like that before. It looked a little alarming, considering how placid and unflappable she usually was. In stony silence they headed along the passageways, which soon became carpeted like most of the lower level. At that point the guards stopped following them; they stood at the edge of their domain, watching them until they rounded the next corner.

Chris glanced at Holly as they walked. He felt he should apologise. He was truthfully a little afraid to open his mouth, with Holly being so angry, possibly at him directly... after all, if he'd kept a better eye on Titch, none of this would have happened. He steeled his nerves and opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word Holly grabbed his hand, pulling him briskly down the corridor.

"Hey- where are we going?" he stammered, taken by surprise.

"Where do you think?" Holly growled. "We're getting your bloody persocom back. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"What? But-" Chris stammered, not quite comprehending. Holly stopped so suddenly he nearly stumbled into her. Her next words were dangerously quiet.

"Since giving Titch to you, I seem to recall charging you with her care. I am correct in assuming we are on the same page, am I not?"

Chris blinked. She really was serious. A new sensation fought to displace the dejection in his chest. Holly looked him in the eye, and he returned her determined gaze.

"That's what I thought." Holly muttered. Her eyes flashed in the dimly lit corridor. "The network's still down... We've not got much time. How fast can you run?"

"I- whoa!" Chris almost fell on his face as Holly broke into a sprint, dragging him down the empty corridor.


	18. Chapter 18

Chris and Holly pelted through the winding corridors of the lower level. The agility with which Holly flitted through doors and around corners took Chris by surprise; more than once he wound up bouncing off a wall or door frame trying to change direction so quickly.

"Where are we going?" Chris managed between breaths, as they tore down a particularly long curvature in the passageway.

"That little _misunderstanding_ with security resulted in us being ejected from the opposite side of the building to where they'll take Titch," Holly explained, effortlessly maintaining a dead run. "We must get round the perimeter of the inner circle to reach the maintenance department."

Soon they were scrambling up a stairwell; its primary function a fire exit, there was nobody to be seen inside. "Here!" Holly panted, coming to a stop beside a pair of doors. Footsteps could be heard on the other side. "Are you okay?" she whispered, as Chris heaved for air. She herself was breathing hard, now.

"Can't - feel legs, but… yeah! Phew…" he flashed her a wry grin.

"What is it?"

"Oh - nothing, just - you know - a human woman - couldn't possibly - have run that fast, in heels."

Holly chuckled breathlessly as she cracked the doors for a look outside. Peering through the crack beside her, Chris could feel heat radiating off her body; its subtlety reminded him of the way halogen bulbs cast warmth on someone walking underneath them.

"Holly- you're overheating." Chris gasped, slowly regaining his breath.

"Oh, an expert on persocom thermodynamics? How useful, I'm so glad we hired you." she said sarcastically. "I'm fine, Chris. Concentrate." Instantly her panting stopped, as if she'd simply decided that was enough. Her breathing didn't drop back to resting, though; she might not need oxygen, but she'd have to vent that heat somehow.

They watched the sparse traffic passing by outside, waiting for the moment when it emptied out and became quiet.

"A task from security would be high priority, but maintenance would've been busy before the Spine locked down… If we're lucky, they're backed up and she'll be in temporary storage before processing. But she'll be at the top of the list - therefore, we may have only small window of opportunity." Holly murmured, pushing the door open and strolling casually out into the corridor. Chris followed, trying to look like he was meant to be there. Holly moved diagonally across the open space, slinking down another nearby passageway with Chris following suit.

"What do we do when we find her?" Chris asked, as they travelled briskly down the empty passage.

"I don't know." Holly muttered, shaking her head. "I don't exactly rescue my kind from destruction as a matter of regularity."

"Why now, then?" Chris pressed, scanning the signage around them. They appeared to be heading into an area of the department reserved for storage. He conjured up a hazy memory of the floor plan for this level of the building. Wasn't the storage for maintenance flanked on both sides by the facilities that used these materials? The idea that someone could burst in from either direction made him nervous.

Holly hesitated before responding. "If you found yourself in a situation where your actions could save someone's life, would you take the risk?"

"You're deflecting. With that logic I could argue that you should try to save every persocom that ever got scheduled for disassembly-"

"No. It rarely happens, and I wouldn't be aware of it, if and when it did." she glowered at his sceptical expression. "...Maybe I just think you'll be good together."

"What are you doing?" a voice called out behind them, causing them to stop in their tracks. Sharing a nervous look, they turned to see a grey-haired, cantankerous-looking man emerge from another set of doors. He looked like he could be a cell leader for some of the maintenance staff. Likely having worked at NEIS for many years, he would know they weren't supposed to be here. Chris gritted his teeth.

"If your persocom needs attention you've gone the wrong way." the man grumbled, frowning at the two of them. "What's wrong with her anyway?" he held up his hand as Holly opened her mouth, looking to Chris for an answer.

"Oh… uh, well…" Chris scrambled for inspiration, but there was very obviously nothing wrong with Holly at all. She looked at him expectantly, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "S-She has... software issues."

"Then why is she in Maintenance?" the man growled, narrowing his eyes and stalking grumpily towards them. "I'm so sick of you lot coming to us with every little problem. Software isn't our thing, don't you know that?"

"But-"

"I said no! Unless you want her wiped we deal with _real-world_ problems only, so take her to S-Dev."

"W-well there's also this problem with her hand-"

"Then go and wait with the others. There's a queue, in case you haven't noticed!" He gestured up the corridor, in the opposite direction to which they had been heading. "You need to leave now. In fact, you better just come back another day, we're so backed up there's no point in trying now. Go on; you're not supposed to be back here anyway!"

There had to be a way to change his mind! At this rate they would be thrown out of the department! Chris heard Holly shift beside him… a whine of straining servo motors, followed by a subtle crunching sound.

"You didn't let him finish." Holly said nonchalantly, producing a hand from behind her back. Her index finger was mangled, jutting out from her hand in an uncomfortable direction. "See? This isn't just some twitchy angle encoders, it's a priority repair!" Chris fought the reflexive gasp that tried to burst from his mouth. Did she just…?

The old man seemed to relax a little. "Oh, I see. Well, thanks to this security shutdown I have some time, _finally _\- that rush for the Spine was ridiculous, I hate that we have to deal with PIDO down here," he ran a hand through his thinning hair, frowning in thought. "Tell you what, I'll fix this myself and let you jump the queue... By way of apology, you understand." he finished pointedly, taking Holly gently by the arm. She blinked in surprise, glancing worriedly at Chris.

"Oh no, we couldn't bother you, we're not in a rush, we'll wait-" Chris said, but the man waved him down.

"Nah, it's no problem. Won't take more than an hour, maybe." He pointed up the corridor, looking at Chris and adopting a no-nonsense tone of voice. "You really can't stay here though, go to the waiting room at the front please. We'll be done shortly."

"Really, we'll be fine until later-"

"Do you want her fixed or not?" The grouchy man snapped, fixing Chris with a challenging, self-important glare. "I just offered to do it _personally_. Do you know who I am, boy?"

"Uh... Trevor?" Chris said hopefully, glancing at the name badge affixed to the employee's chest. He cringed inwardly at the older man's eyes; they seemed about ready to pop out of their sockets in outrage. But not a moment later, the man was cackling with laughter.

"Bahaha! A witty one, aren't you!" he guffawed, as he began to lead Holly away. "Go on, off with you! I'll have her fixed and ready lickety-split."

"R-right, uh... thanks." Chris mumbled defeatedly. He wouldn't be able to rescue Holly from being taken away. Holly realised it as well; she looked at Chris over her shoulder, mouthing a simple message:

_Up to you now._

Chris nodded, following the pair of them so the man would think he was heading for the waiting room. When they disappeared behind another set of doors - Holly fabricating a story about how she came to fall over and damager her hand - Chris turned back and headed along their intended route. Without Holly there to guide him, he had no idea what he was actually looking for. She'd said temporary storage... He scanned the signage on the walls, looking for something that might qualify. It was _all_ storage around here! Everything! Finding whatever he was looking for would take a while.

Chris quickened his pace to a trot, becoming increasingly anxious with every step. It was bad enough that he was here, unauthorised, in a facility of a company whose security force very nearly collared him for some sort of bizarre commercial espionage. Now on top of that, he couldn't find the persocom he was taking so much risk to save! The day could very well end with Titch destroyed and him behind bars.

Irrelevant rooms and areas passed him by again and again. Spare mechanicals for different model ranges. Component stores. Raw materials. Chemicals. Fabric and clothing. And much the same for equipment and tools. He was beginning to think the task would be impossible when he finally stumbled across a promising set of double doors labelled "Preprocessing".

The lights were on inside. Chris peered carefully through the glass windows, expecting to see racks of shelving. Instead, it appeared to be a sizeable waiting room of sorts; many people - no, persocoms - sat on chairs inside, patiently awaiting attention from the department, presumably for repairs. This _had_ to be it. He studied the interior apprehensively.

There, perched on the edge of a human-sized seat, gazing forlornly at the far wall; a tiny persocom with a little bow in her deep red hair.

Chris placed a hand on the door, but the sound of fast-approaching voices stopped him short of pushing it open. He span around, looking for a place to hide, but it was a long, curved corridor - except for a windowless door on the adjacent wall there wasn't anywhere he could reach in time. Hoping there was nobody inside, he shouldered it open, almost blundering into an array of mops and brooms propped against the shelving filling the room. The interior appeared to be full of chemicals and cleaning equipment. Narrow but quite deep, there were plenty of objects he could get lost behind if anyone did try to come in here. Chris eased the door shut gently, listening to the voices as their conversation came into earshot.

"...it really is ridiculous, you know." a woman's voice huffed grumpily.

"I know. But how often does it happen, really? Once every few weeks, at the worst? And can you even remember the last time it was that bad? This is just a little hiccup, really." a male coworker maybe, apparently trying to placate her.

"As if that matters! It shouldn't happen at all! Why if _I_ were in charge of Mechatronics-"

"Oho, here we go..."

"-I would _make_ my staff do the checks before they ruined a production run!"

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

"You're such a wind-up merchant. Go on, go away."

"Huh? Aren't you coming? What're you going in there for?" the male voice said. Chris backed further into the room.

"Oh, yeah, sorry… one last job, high priority, only just came in. It's a sad one." the woman sighed.

"Oh no..."

"Yeah… got to take a little persocom apart. Isn't it awful? I hate doing that. I wonder what's wrong with it?"

_No, no, no! _Chris hurried back to the door, panicking. If he had just moved faster!

"Oh dear. Well, it can't be helped sometimes. Okay Angie, I'll catch you later then."

"See you at six, right?"

"Yep!"

Chris stared at the back of the door. This was it. He was missing his chance. They were taking Titch away right in front of him!

"Well, let's get this over with." the woman muttered. He heard the sound of the door to Preprocessing swinging open as she called out sweetly. "...Titch? Titch, is it? Are you here?"

Chris made to open the door but stopped before pulling the handle, struggling with the voices inside his head.

_Do something, you idiot! _

_But what? What to do?_

Maybe could he pretend to be someone of authority? Get her to drop everything for an important task? Angie... He knew her name from eavesdropping... that could lend weight to him playing the angry-manager-from-nowhere, maybe… but no, it almost certainly wouldn't work. Even if it could have, he wasn't confident or forceful enough... and what would he even say? He knew nothing of the Maintenance department's operations, it would be so unconvincing...

The tinkle of a tiny bell could be heard through the door. "Where are we going?" a little voice said.

"We've got some tests to do." the woman replied sadly, their conversation receding down the corridor.

"Will Chris be there? He's my friend and I'm worried. It was dark when I left him, he might bump into things."

"Oh… oh, sweetheart… I'm... sure you'll see him afterwards."

Chris stared hopelessly at the back of the storage room door, the little persocom's words digging a hole inside his chest. With Titch on her way to be decommissioned, his chance to save her was all but gone. That moment had been it; there wasn't another opportunity.

His lip curled into a silent snarl of anger. If he'd just got there quicker! More to the point, if he'd just kept a better eye on her in the bloody first place! He swung a fist at the wall in frustration. It connected with a crunch, and he jerked his hand back in shock at the cracking sensation that ran through his knuckles.

For the second time that day, all Chris could hear was the blaring of sirens. He stared in horror at the wall, and the fire alarm panel he had just smashed open. Fragments of emergency glass littered the floor where he stood. He grabbed one of the brooms and placed it among the glass, as if it had fallen over and struck the alarm. It didn't look very convincing, he thought.

Footsteps thumped rapidly back along the corridor, halting outside the door again.

"Okay, everyone out, please!" that Angie woman shouted, apparently shooing the persocoms out of Preprocessing. "Stay together and we'll return when this is over."

"Is this a drill, then?" one of the persocoms asked. They must be shuffling out of the room and into the hallway. Focusing so hard on what was going on out there, he barely noticed what his body was doing; almost as if he were witnessing someone else in third-person, he found himself stealthily opening the door.

In the corridor outside, Angie was preoccupied herding the persocoms from the other room. A little dumpy and middle-aged, she had a kind-looking face that would've put Chris at ease were it not for the circumstances. He padded across the tiled floor, sneaking up to the rear of the group as it formed. Standing behind the rearmost persocoms, he tried to adopt the indifferent demeanour they seemed to share. Attempting to impersonate a persocom… A distant part of him screamed that this was foolish and he should get out of sight, its urgency emphasised by the insistent noise of the fire alarm. He didn't even have the characteristic ears! Could he pass himself off as a model similar to the ones working behind the company reception desk?

Angie closed the door as the last occupant filtered out of preprocessing. Against the wailing of the alarm she loudly reeled off the company procedure for fire drills. "Okay, then. Okay. Let's see. We proceed to the fire alarm meeting point as designated for this zone, where you will await identification. Do not go to your departmental meeting points; go to that of the department you were presently scheduled to be in - in this case, maintenance. We will proceed at an orderly pace..."

She seemed to be reciting it for her own benefit rather than the persocoms gathered before her; Chris was sure they already knew exactly what to do. They listened politely nonetheless, until she finished speaking. With a self-satisfied nod she began to turn around.

In that split second Chris spotted Titch; having just clambered onto Angie's shoulder, she plopped herself onto her new perch and swept the assembled persocoms with her gaze. Chris quickly darted out of view behind the nearest persocom, but the sudden movement caught Angie's attention, and she peered towards the back of the crowd.

"Are you okay, back there?" she called out over the ringing alarms.

Chris froze. A few of the persocoms turned around to look at him. More than one looked a little surprised to see him standing there, but none of them said a word. Keeping his expression neutral under such scrutiny was taking extraordinary effort.

"Hello? Hey, you there!" Angie called, pointing over the heads of the crowd and leaning to get a better look at him.

_Oh god, why do I have to be so bad at improvising?_

Chris cleared his throat as quietly as he could. That could have given him away as human immediately, but the fire alarm provided enough cover. He'd have to alter his voice, in case Titch recognised him. Her bell was jingling, barely audible over all the noise; she was trying to see the mysterious persocom at the back of the group.

"I am fine." he called out blandly, trying as subtly as possible to keep out of Titch's line of sight. "S-Servos in my leg need some attention, that's all."

Was that the best he could come up with? Chris clamped his mouth shut. There was no response from the front of the crowd; nothing but the undulating racket of the fire alarm, and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. More than half the persocoms were looking at him now. He strained to maintain his air of indifference, meeting their gaze in what he hoped appeared an expressionless manner. His jaw creaked in his ears, but he didn't dare unclench his teeth. If this didn't work...

"...I see." the woman said uncertainly, frowning. "Well, if you need assistance moving, speak up. That goes for anyone else as well." With that, she turned around and led the procession down the corridor. The onlookers turned away, following obediently, and Chris went with them, making sure to stay at the back and unable to believe his luck.

They marched down the corridor, apparently tracing a path back to the fire exit Chris and Holly had used before. The traffic nearer that fire exit had picked up considerably. Others were beginning to crowd the hallway now; a constant stream making its way from the maintenance department. Chris bowed his head slightly, hoping he wouldn't be challenged amidst all the bustle.

They travelled down the fire escape stairs without incident, heading on a path towards the exterior of the building. The dimly lit carpeted corridors of the lower level were much brighter now; apparently triggering a fire alarm cancelled the energy-saving measures for increased safety. He kept glancing over the bustle for glimpse of Titch, perched on that woman's shoulder. So close, and yet so far.

Suddenly the crowd ahead began to make noises. In an instant, every persocom in the crowd was guiding humans to either side of the corridor, urging them to make way. Chris backed towards the wall immediately, moments before a band of persocoms hurtled past at inhuman speed, heading back up the corridor towards maintenance with breathing apparatus, medical and firefighting equipment in their grasp. The persocoms in the crowd relaxed as soon as they passed, allowing everyone to continue along the corridor. Everyone chattered worriedly amongst themselves; this wasn't a drill, something was happening! The nervous fervour only made Chris feel more self-conscious. He began to wonder how the emergency response was coordinated in the building. There could be several teams on their way to the site of the alarm trigger. He began to feel nauseous. They'd find the broken alarm panel. They'd find the unconvincing broom on the floor. What if they-

A hand gripped his forearm, pulling him backwards.

Chris span around reflexively, barely holding in an involuntary shout. But instead of a security guard, he found himself face to face with Holly. She shot him an accusatory glare as he exhaled in relief.

"Could you not scare the shit out of me like that?" he whispered shakily, as loud as he dared in order to be heard over the fire alarm.

"What have you _done_?" she demanded quietly in reply, falling in step with him. Chris shrugged as if to say "_what choice did I have?_" and the persocom rolled her eyes.

"When I said 'up to you', I didn't mean this!" she hissed.

"I'm no good at improvising!" Chris shot back under his breath. "Besides it was an accident!"

"I can't compute how you could possibly trigger a _building-wide fire alarm_ by accident!"

"Well I - wait, how did you even know this was me?"

"The stupid guilty look on your face!" she replied. "Speaking of which: cut it out!"

Chris nodded uneasily, trying to clear his expression. "So you lost the maintenance guy?"

"I said I wanted to check on you. Which didn't work, by the way... that man was stubborn as anything! So I waited until his back was turned and got lost in the crowd." she waved her other hand as if to indicate threading her way through lots of people, paying no attention to her damaged finger.

"Are you okay with that?" Chris asked, looking at it uneasily.

"It's nothing." Holly replied, dropping it out of sight. "Would have been nice not have wasted it, though."

Chris winced apologetically as daylight poured in from further up the corridor. They broke through into the atrium, teeming with employees and persocoms making their way straight across its wide expanse to the nearest fire exits dotted along the enormous outer wall. The fire alarm reverberated throughout the massive expanse, echoing off the huge surfaces containing it.

"You still look guilty as sin… stop it!" Holly hissed. Chris smoothed his face as best he could, indicating towards the woman several meters ahead now that they could see her clearly. Holly picked her out of the crowd, spotting Titch on her shoulder as well. She swore quietly to herself.

"I don't have a solution for this," she warned him.

"You don't have a solution for this _yet_… right?"

"...Sure."

As they were lead outside the building and away from the atrium's lighting systems, bright sunlight gave way to the day's genuine, depressing overcast grey. There the masses were forming up into groups, waiting for fire marshals to come round and confirm their attendance. Wind buffeted them there, its biting unpleasant chill amplifying the miserable atmosphere.

Chris watched Angie patrolling their group. Titch stood on her shoulder, balancing effortlessly as she watched the milling crowds with fascination. Her attention was elsewhere for the moment, but all the same… he slouched behind the persocoms in front. "Titch is going to spot us any second, all lined up like this! It'll blow our cover if she does!"

"She's already trying to reach us."

"Huh?"

"Now that we're out in the open her WiODA modem can reach any persocom within the crowd. She's trying to contact me."

Chris thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps we'd best say hello," he murmured, meeting her sidelong gaze.

"I agree," Holly replied, her eyes flashing subtly. On Angie's shoulder, Titch whipped her head round, looking straight in their direction. She gasped joyously, but any words of greeting died on her lips at a second rapid burst transmission from Holly. Instead her eyes flickered questioningly in response.

"That's right." Holly murmured, firing the last few packets of data home.

Titch stared at Angie in abject fear.

"Hmm? Is everything all right, dear?" Angie said kindly, glancing at her frightened passenger. Titch quickly looked away, nodding timidly and sitting down. "Good, good. Stay seated sweetie, I wouldn't want you to fall off and get lost out here. I'll keep a close eye on you though, don't you worry." The expression on Titch's face said she'd love nothing more than to bolt from her perch. At least she was aware, now. Chris silently praised the fact that persocoms didn't need networks to communicate directly at short range.

"Okay, then!" Angie called out, over the crowd of persocoms. "Our fire marshal will be here momentarily. To speed things up I'll ID you, okay?" she reached for something fastened to the belt on her hips Chris had been unable to see until now, producing a small electronic tool and proceeding to wave it over the persocoms in the front line.

"What is that thing?" Chris whispered. It beeped on different parts of each persocom's body; sometimes the arms, sometimes the stomach, or the neck or head. After each beep, Angie would glance at its little display before moving on.

"She's scanning our UUIDs so she can identify us. Many people in NEIS carry tools capable of doing that, and some persocoms can perform it too. It saves time for the fire marshals if they don't need to ID every persocom themselves; they can take the data from a whole group at a time. There's a similar procedure for taking attendance of humans."

"And the waving?"

"The transceivers are very short range. Like how you might tap a card to make a payment, or use public transport. We all have one on our bodies somewhere." Holly caught the look in his eyes. "I know. I'm trying to think of something. Whatever happens, just play along."

With a nod of satisfaction, Angie finished with the far end of the line, moving on to their own. Chris watched her approaching, brandishing her that little gadget. As Angie approached, he felt Holly's hand press gently into his lower back.

Angie stood before him, waving the multitool at his midriff. It beeped grudgingly, and she studied the contents on the screen. Chris bit his tongue, trying hard not to show any expression as he locked eyes with Titch. The little persocom looked like she yearned to leap across the small space between them. He shook his head ever so slightly in warning.

"That can't be right." Angie said, waving it at Chris again. Holly stiffened beside him, the hand pressed into his back shifting slightly. The multitool beeped again, and Angie stared at the screen in consternation.

"Maintenance? But you're…" she looked up at him, catching sight of his decidedly human ears. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Oh, hey!" Titch gasped loudly, a huge smile creeping across face. "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!" Chris stared at the little persocom, unsure how to react. "How was it today in maintenance? You must've been busy from that drama with the Spine, right?"

"Y-Yeah!" Chris said, trying not to wince at the pinch Holly delivered. "Very busy. Good to see you, though!"

"You're from maintenance?" Angie repeated.

"This _persocom _fixed me up once!" Titch prompted, with subtle emphasis. Lights danced behind her eyes while she talked; she was taking cues from Holly. "He's very nice."

"More of a check up, really," Chris blurted, hoping he didn't look like a deer in headlights. Angie seemed to accept this, though she looked a little perplexed.

"You're not outfitted like most persocoms in the department. Your ears-"

"He was transferred, as I recall. You were in marketing, right?" Titch said conversationally. She looked askance at the woman from maintenance, trying to see if the lie would take..

"They said I wasn't cheery enough." Chris added, nodding. Although he was deliberately not looking at her, he could _sense_ the little smirk Holly wore just then.

"Hah, I see," Angie chuckled, "Well you can follow me after we deliver the others back into Preprocessing, then. I could do with some help on my last job, then I'll find a colleague to fix that leg for you before I leave. Seems fair, yes? Let's face it, there's hardly any point in following the list when it's this busy." she sighed.

"No problem," Chris mumbled, after an encouraging jab from Holly. She quickly withdrew her hand, presenting it to Angie as the woman went to scan her. The tool picked up a signal on her wrist, beeping contentedly. Angie studied the results and moved on. Titch gazed longingly back at the two of them as she was carried away.

"This might actually be ideal." Holly whispered. She seemed hopeful.

"This is _far_ from ideal," Chris whispered back. "What just happened?"

"I've picked up a few UUIDs in my time here. That first one didn't work, but the second must have been for a maintenance model. She thinks you belong to her department now."

"That's not ideal at all! Now what am I supposed to do? Help her destroy Titch?"

"You don't understand. It doesn't look like we can separate her from Titch until she's on the operating table now. That means we need access to the maintenance facilities and we'll never get past the doors without Angie there to let one of us in." Holly looked at him. "That will be you."

"Then what?" Chris demanded quietly.

"We find a way to get her to leave the table, before..." Holly's voice trailed into silence. They stood there for a few moments, trying not to think about the consequences.

"She has somewhere to be in a few hours; I overheard her talking." Chris said.

"Excellent. Then you try to convince her to leave so you can do the work. I'll stay close as I am able."

More improvisation. Chris breathed deeply. This was exhausting! At this rate the stress was going to kill him before he could see this through. "Holly… you wouldn't happen to have a percentage in mind for how successful this plan will be... would you?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Holly murmured, looking away.


	19. Chapter 19

The wailing fire alarm had abated more than fifteen minutes ago. Now, at long last, shivering employees were allowed to leave the unpleasant outdoors and filter back into the building. As people poured back inside their nervous chatter picked up once again; wasn't something going on? Did they put out the fire already? A false alarm, maybe?

Holly had been silent for some time, trying to come up with a strategy. It didn't look like she was having much success; She kept shaking her head subtly, each time as if dismissing yet another analytic sequence which ended unsatisfactorily.

"No ideas?" Chris whispered, as they headed beneath the first floor overhang in the giant atrium. It appeared most of the crowd were aiming for the numerous wide stairwells embedded in the inner wall, as the elevators couldn't possibly cope with this many people at once.

Holly shook her head in response. "I'm stuck at 'convince Angie to leave Titch to you,'" she replied quietly, "I don't know anything about her. I can't glean anything either, without the network." She took a moment to sweep the thronging masses with her eyes. "There hasn't been a real emergency here in years." she murmured, as Angie lead their group up the nearest set of stairs. "It seems to have worked everyone up-" She caught herself, looking apologetically at Chris. "...Sorry, I know this is stressing you out."

Chris nodded silently. What an understatement! He would have gone with 'terrifying'. True, with the ending of the fire alarm, the anxiety and fear had abated somewhat, but as they entered Maintenance those feelings returned in full force. Chris looked over the heads of the persocoms in their group as they walked down the curved corridor. There was Angie, with Titch sitting nervously on her shoulder, sneaking looks back at him and Holly. He saw the doors to Preprocessing rolling into view ahead. The space outside them was crammed with staff, most clustered around the storage room Chris had hidden in. He hoped they were buying the crappy broom decoy he left for them. A temporary gap appeared in their milling bodies, and he caught a glimpse of the inside. A security guard knelt over the scene while a persocom refitted the alarm panel. The way that guard eyed the broom suspiciously did nothing for Chris's nerves.

They were practically at the doors, now. He jumped when Holly grabbed his arm, giving him a pointed look. Of course; if she went into Preprocessing, she wouldn't be able to leave with so many eyes in the corridor!

She couldn't go in there. Chris motioned for her to double back along the corridor, but Holly shook her head urgently, flicking her eyes toward the corridor behind them. Her grip on his arm tightened before he could spin to look. "_Carefully,"_ she mouthed.

Chris stole a glance out of the corner of his eyes. It was that old man who stopped them earlier, striding down the corridor with a face of thunder. Losing Holly must have put him in an exceptionally bad mood. At the speed he was walking they would be spotted any second.

The front of their group had reached the doors. Angie drew one open, holding it and allowing them to trundle inside. Chris and Holly shared a knowing look; they had no choice but to shuffle in with them. As Chris wandered inside, Angie began to protest, but he pretended not to hear her over all the bustle. If he had remained in the corridor another moment...

With the rest of the group still trying to enter the room Angie was forced to keep holding the door. It was just enough time to allow Trevor to wander angrily past. The old man ignored Angie and the persocoms completely, scowling on his way along the corridor.

"Come on; I told you I needed you." Angie said tetchily, following the last persocom into Preprocessing and beckoning for Chris. This wasn't good; without Holly hiding in the shadows he'd be flying blind again. He hesitated for an instant, but Holly nonchalantly moved to and took an empty seat, her expression a vision of cool composure. The message was clear; she was trapped here now, and there was nothing they could do about it. They made eye contact one last time as Chris walked reluctantly through the doors.

Back in the corridor, Chris fell into step beside Angie. The woman walked briskly and wordlessly, apparently not interested in conversation with a persocom. He glanced at Titch and immediately had to fight an urge to scoop her up and run. She returned his look with wide eyes; thanks to Holly she knew what was coming. Chris tried to smile reassuringly while Angie wasn't looking, but it was a feeble gesture at best, and Titch looked no happier.

The journey took them out of the storage areas and into what must have been one of the master corridors for the department; it teemed with NEIS employees trying to get back to work after the false fire alarm. There were numerous facilities down its length which ostensibly catered for different aspects of persocom care. Angie seemed to know which one she wanted, making straight for its large security doors. Chris took a deep breath as subtly as he was able, steeling himself. Here was the event horizon. Once they passed that threshold, Titch was coming out in one piece, or not at all.

"Let's make this quick," Angie muttered as they reached the doors. They must have picked up some form of wireless identification from a device on Angie's person, for they glided open automatically to reveal the facility inside. You could fit a pair of tennis courts in its depths, with room to spare. A plethora of tools and hardware could be seen arranged neatly along the walls, and stations for different tasks were dotted about the facility floor, each appearing to be outfitted for particular specialist roles. There were humans and persocoms at many of them, working and being worked on respectively. Angie crossed the floor, heading for one station in particular; a bench-top environment with a terminal and a multitude of small parts bins that very much implied it was for working on portable units.

Angie made as if to access the terminal, but then sighed in exasperation, digging instead through the drawers under the bench for paperwork Chris didn't recognise. Judging by Angie's struggled search NEIS didn't use paper often; their persocoms would usually be able to call up and handle things such as form-filling digitally, with ease. Presumably until the network was up and running again this paperwork would have to suffice. Good; it would slow the process down, then. Chris watched as Angie placed Titch on the table, diving into the desk once more for a pen and proceeding to scribble things into fields on the papers' surface. Titch stood forlornly in place as Angie worked the pen down the forms. The little persocom looked longingly at the doors. The hopeful expression she wore tied knots in his stomach. He worked up the courage to speak; if he was going to do something, he'd better do it _now._

"Those forms have a lot of fields, don't they?" Chris said, looking for an opening. Angie didn't respond, so he pressed again, "Would you like me to -"

"No, thanks. We'll be done soon." Angie interrupted, ticking a few boxes. She glanced up at Titch. "Model?"

"Minito 530," Titch replied quietly, as if being timid about it might delay the inevitable.

Angie tapped the pen to the table, frowning in thought as she muttered under her breath. "What architecture are we using for those, now? Hmm... We need… NTAG scanner NP12, maybe? If the bloody network was up..."

"You seem stressed. Why don't you have a break? It's really no trouble. I could take this from here." Chris said, smiling disarmingly. He could see Titch in his peripheral vision, anxiously swinging her attention between the two of them, making it harder for him to think.

"I won't delegate my own responsibilities, thank you very much." Angie huffed. Titch's expression fell further.

"But-"

"I said no, now do as you're told!" Angie adopted a no-nonsense tone, making shooing motions. "NP12, please. Go on!"

Bewildered, Chris wandered reluctantly from the station, scanning the facility for something that might fit the vague description Angie provided. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed Angie had gone back to scribbling on her paperwork; she wouldn't notice him searching. He studied the labelling of the nearest equipment on the walls. Everything seemed to be organised into categories but he couldn't see anything pertaining to "NTAG". What's NTAG for? Based on the job Angie was performing it was evidently something to do with a persocom's neurologic hardware. Some kind of debugging interface? An architecture-specific piece of equipment for low-level access to the hardware? He searched for a neurologic category instead, and came across a segment of wall dedicated to peripherals with ports that wouldn't have looked out of place on persocom models of recent years. There, hanging among various others like it - a box and trailing leads labelled NP12. He snatched it unceremoniously.

How was he going to convince Angie to leave? Too much had happened today already - his head was beginning to feel fuzzy, and the idea of just closing his eyes seemed impossibly wonderful - but he couldn't give in to fatigue now. Angie could be ready to start the procedure any moment. It would be too late to do anything, and as if that weren't bad enough, he'd be forced to help it happen. While heading back Chris gave one of the cables on the box a subtle but sharp tug; the strain relief stopped the jacket from leaving the case, but he felt something give way inside with a satisfying _snap_. He made sure to do it to the others for good measure; maybe that would delay things further.

The sight of the box and cables seemed too much for Titch. When Chris brought the foreboding contraption back to their station she backed away from it. He set it down on the surface as far away from her as he could. It was a gesture that would be meaningless if he couldn't resolve this quickly. Time was running out, he had to be more insistent.

"You know, it doesn't look like this is going to be all that quick," Chris said, pressing Angie again. "I have all night to get this finished, if you wanted to-"

"What are you trying to say?" Angie demanded, looking up from her paperwork and crossing her arms defensively. "Do I have somewhere I need to be? I don't recall telling you anything."

Chris tried not to wince at that rebuttal. He was making things worse! But he had to keep trying. He forced a conversational tone as he replied. "You mentioned before that you would have someone check out my leg before you left. I simply inferred you had other plans. If that's true I thought I'd do you a favour and take over."

"You bloody marketing models are too nosy. I'm not here to be friends and accept favours. I'm here to do a task I don't want to do. In order to do it, I will need your help, and when that happens, I will have you provide it."

Chris blinked. She didn't want to do it? Of course, she had complained back when Chris eavesdropped on her in the hallway, too. Come to think of it, the way she avoided specifying what the task was implied she didn't want Titch or himself to know until the last moment, either. Maybe that was an opportunity.

"What exactly _is _your task?" Chris replied, changing tact. He saw from Angie's expression he'd hit a nerve. "I thought this was a repair but come to think of it, you never did elaborate..."

"You'll see." Angie said evasively, glancing at Titch. She was staring at the NTAG scanner as one might a poisonous spider.

"I already know what I'm here for." Titch interrupted. She tore her gaze from the NTAG and turned it upon Angie. "You're going to destroy me."

Angie stared at her, taken aback. "H-How could you know that?"

"I like it here. Is there a way I can help without having to go through this?"

Angie shook her head wordlessly, but Titch continued her plea.

"What if I just forgot the data? Erased the stuff I saw? Could I please go then?"

"What you… saw? I... don't know anything about that. It doesn't matter what you saw. I simply have to perform the analysis."

"But why destroy me? I could just talk to you, I will answer any question you ask, I promise!"

"I meant... You misunderstand, little one-"

"But I'm promising to behave! So I can go, right? If I promise I have to do it!"

"No, that's not... Y-Your neurologic hardware could be-"

"But it was an honest mistake! I didn't know I was being bad! I won't be bad any more!"

Angie appeared to be getting flustered. "That's not the point. This is company procedure. Don't you see? I… I _have_ to do this. It doesn't matter to me what you did or why you did it. Whatever it was, it was clearly enough that you need to be... to be..." she drew a breath, trying to compose herself, "Now, we need to get started." She motioned Titch to sit in front of her, but with a nervous tinkle of her bell, the little persocom shook her head.

"I don't want to do this." Titch said quietly, remaining where she was. "Neither do you."

Angie hesitated, looking increasingly distressed. "I... understand dear, but we have to perform the procedure." She reached for Titch, but the little persocom stepped away again, meeting her gaze imploringly.

"Please don't. Please?"

"I'm so sorry, little one. It has to be done," Angie said, her voice wavering slightly. Titch scurried over the table towards Chris, reaching out for him.

"I'm sorry! I just don't want to go!" she squeaked, looking up at him in desperation.

Chris clenched his jaw, kneeling down to her level on the station worksurface. He offered her a hand, and she ran into its embrace.

"I won't be bad again," she whimpered, clutching at his thumb.

"Listen to me," he said gently, keeping his emotions in a vice-like grip. "Everything is going to be okay."

"But-"

"I mean it. I'm here. You trust me, right? So let's not struggle, okay?"

He forced himself to believe it was not an empty promise. Forced himself to show confidence as he met her gaze. For a moment, Titch considered his words. Then, nodding in silence, she guided his index finger onto the tiny button behind her ear, looking at him trustingly.

"What will it be like... ceasing to exist?"

"...I hear it can be very peaceful." Chris managed.

Titch wrapped her hand around his index finger, flashing him a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble." Before he could respond, she braced against him, and pushed. Her tiny body sagged into his grasp as the light went out of her eyes.

"That was really sweet of you," Angie murmured, sniffling. "I didn't know persocoms could interact with each other like that."

"It's nothing," Chris replied hollowly. His mind felt really fuzzy, now. It was very hard to think. "We just couldn't have her making a fuss."

"I hate doing this, you know. I hate it so much." Angie mumbled in between sniffs. Now that the secret of her task was out, the woman almost seemed relieved to let her true feelings be known. Even so, it was clear she had no intention of stopping. Regaining her composure she prodded the terminal keys, causing the screen to flicker to life. It immediately complained the network was down, and Angie sighed, holding out an upturned hand. "Right then, let's get started. Pass me a cable."

Chris looked numbly around the table, preoccupied with finding ways he could separate Angie from her task. It was like clutching at empty air. There was no way out. What cable, anyway? The NTAG had several… of course, they were broken now… as if that would help for long...

"Pass me a cable." Angie repeated, looking at him expectantly. Her eyes roved over his head and neck, looking for-

_Oh shit._

"Me? W-why do you need my cables?" he stammered.

"The terminal is useless without the network, you need to run the NTAG." Angie said, as if it were obvious."You know that."

"Oh. Well, yes, I-"

"What's the matter?" Angie said irritably, turning to face him. "I just want to get this over and done with. Come on, I haven't got all day, I'm _really_ behind now after all this mess!"

Why was he so bad at improvising? His head felt like it was full of mud. Chris instinctively took a step backwards, trying to form a response. "I… don't think I can."

"You...? What are you talking about? Are your circuits addled? Come here!" Angie grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, pulling downwards in an attempt to get a look at the back of his neck. Caught by surprise, Chris resisted, and she eyed him suspiciously as she let him go.

"What's the matter with you?" She demanded, raising her voice. A few heads in the room began to turn. Chris raised his hands defensively, scrambling for some words to defuse the situation, when the sound of a paged message filled the room.

"ANGELA DOWES, CALL ON LINE 703. ANGELA DOWES, CALL ON LINE 703."

Angie sighed in frustration. "Oh, for-! What now? Well, at least the network is back up. Maybe I won't need you after all. Can you connect that call?"

"Uh… sorry, no." Chris said, pointing to his midriff, "Problems with my radio gear, remember?" The first time Holly had tried to trick Angie's scanner, the attempt had failed. It was a convincing excuse.

"Is nothing in this bloody building working properly?" Angie growled, shaking her head and stamping away from the desk. "I'll be right back, and when I am you _better _do as your told!"

Chris watched the woman stalk across the facility floor. She threaded around the various workstations and their occupants in order to reach a telephone on the wall.

The terminal pinged cheerily over its restored network connection. Chris barely noticed. If the network was up, then from this moment, there was no scenario he could envision where Angie would leave Titch to him. No longer of use, she might throw him out of the room if he badgered her again. Or worse, try and get someone to look at his erratic behaviour - something that would expose his identity almost immediately.

Chris studied the path to the facility doors. They weren't a great distance away. Perhaps... Should he…? He looked around the room. Everyone, human or otherwise, was preoccupied at their own tasks. The heads that had turned to look had lost interest again. He glanced over the stations at Angie. She had her back to him, gesticulating as she argued with the person on the other end of the line.

Now or never. He gently scooped Titch from the table, walking briskly for the doors. Nobody looked up from their work as he passed. He was just another persocom going about his business. Or maybe a person. Who knew what the others in the room assumed him to be? Just a little further. He glanced at Angie again; still none the wiser.

He approached the doors, fighting a rising sense of panic. Why weren't they opening? He should have been in range for them to glide open automatically. He was leaving, not entering. Did this mean they were secured in both directions? He swivelled his gaze desperately around its frame. Maybe there was a button? No such luck, it seemed; there was only a security panel with a keypad on the left hand side. Its red indicator light clearly indicated the door was locked.

A quick look at Angie. From this angle she would spot him if she looked up. He walked quickly to the security panel. Maybe a keypress would open it from the inside. He had to try _something_. It felt like there were eyes boring into the back of his head, but another quick scan of the room showed no-one paying him heed. He hurriedly scrutinised the security panel. Numerical digits, as expected, and some control keys. He tapped the button labelled 'E', jumping as the panel barked a sharp warning tone. Another panicked look behind him, but it appeared nobody had noticed.

His fingers hovered over the keys, but before he could try another the panel light shifted to a welcoming green as the doors slid smoothly open to admit some new arrivals. Chris froze, but they were entering at an angle, heading straight for the stations in the corner, and with his proximity to the side of the doorframe he went completely unnoticed. He slipped through the doors behind them before they could slide closed, slipping Titch into his trouser pocket in the process.

He had no idea of the fastest route out of here. This building was a bloody maze inside. No, the best option was to head through the maintenance lobby. As nonchalantly, yet briskly as possible, Chris followed the path indicated by signage on the walls.

He crossed the lobby, keeping his gaze low, not risking eye contact with anyone as he wandered through the exit and into the atrium's vast expanse. To avoid sharing an elevator with anyone he took the stairs Angie had led them up earlier, hurrying directly across the atrium's ground floor for the nearest exit from the building. That woman would have finished her phone call by now, surely. He dared not think about what fuss she must be causing right then. It was too late to worry about that… just so long as he and Titch were as far away as possible. Bracing himself, he slunk through the doors and into the blustery afternoon's weather.

* * *

The sight of his front door had never been so welcoming. Chris thought escaping NEIS headquarters would bring the most relief, but truthfully he hadn't realised how much stress he was under until he reached his home. The moment that door thunked shut, his legs gave way, and he let it happen, sinking to the floor in exhaustion.

Today went seriously wrong in many ways, and even then it still could have been so much worse. He had no idea what to expect next - what to do about tomorrow - but whatever might happen, he couldn't muster the strength to panic about it just then. There had been too much adrenaline running through his veins, for far too long. His whole body was spent. Feeling a little woozy, he padded into his tiny living-room kitchen combo. A worn sofa filled much of the living room portion, sat beside a tired side table furnished with a lamp and an old telephone. The TV and its AV stand swallowed most of the space between there and opposite wall. There was no place he'd rather be, just then.

Chris collapsed across the sofa with a groan, gingerly extracting Titch from his pocket. As he lay there, he checked her briefly for damage. Other than some tousled hair, she seemed to be perfectly okay. He pressed the button behind her ear and she stirred to life in his hands, blinking at her surroundings.

"I'm okay?" she squeaked in surprise, alternating between looking herself over and studying the room.

Chris nodded wearily, though he managed a smile. "Yep."

"You're okay?" she squeaked, studying him too.

"Yep."

Titch punched the air, her little bell tinkling jubilantly. "We win!" she cried, beaming.

"Yeah…" Chris mumbled, pinching his brow. "We win." He felt Titch hop onto his stomach, pattering up to his chest. When he opened his eyes, he found her stood right in front of them, inspecting his head with concern.

"Did you injure your face?"

Chris snorted a laugh. "No, I'm fine, have a hell of a headache, that's all."

"Oh," Titch said, looking conflicted. "Um. Holly told me not to use my radio gear for now. Do you have a terminal I can use to look up some remedies?"

Chris smiled, pointing across the room to the kitchenette. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll sort it in a minute. In fact I have some tablets in a drawer just over there, I'll just take some of those and I'll be right as rain."

"Great! Wait here." Titch squeaked, bounding off his chest before he could react. She hit the ground, tucking and rolling in a single fluid movement that carried her momentum forward as she sprang to her feet. In just a few seconds she had scurried into the kitchenette and was heaving at the bottommost drawer, trying to pull it open.

Chris blinked. "Uh… Titch?"

The tiny persocom paused mid-pull, arching her head back and looking at him upside-down.

"Yep?"

"Thanks, but it's the second drawer from the top."

Chris didn't want her to fall while trying to prise open the upper draws. He made to get up and help, but the sudden ringing of the phone made him jump, shrill and harsh against the quiet of the room. He reached for it gingerly, afraid of what might be waiting on the other end.

"Hello?"

There was a relieved sigh in his ear. "_Chris! I had no idea what happened to you!"_

"Oh! Holly! I'm so sorry! When I had the chance I thought I better get out completely, I-"

"_Never mind that, I'm just glad you're okay. Where's Titch? Is she safe?"_

The persocom in question had practically teleported back to the sofa on hearing Holly's name. "Hello Holly!" She squeaked cheerfully, pressing her ear against the back of the receiver. "Chris saved me!"

"_So I see!"_ Holly chuckled, as Titch hopped away. "_Well done, Chris. Thank you._"

"What about you?" Chris asked, worried. "What's happening over there?"

"_You don't want to know. It's chaos. Luckily much of it is down to the fire alarm; it's good cover for doing some damage control._"

"Damage control?"

"_Making records match, filling in the blanks, that sort of thing. Even for a company practically run by a neurologic supercomputer, there's still plenty of bureaucratic nonsense to handle. Especially when said supercomputer deliberately cut off the very network that it uses to manage everything. That's working to our advantage. If I play my cards right, Titch's decommission will be a ghost of a memory. By tomorrow morning I should be on top of things."_ Holly paused. "_There are some things I can't cover up, though. Come in tomorrow, but be discreet. Keep Titch hidden. Follow the route I am mailing to you. James will meet you there."_

"Holly, wait!" Chris said, "I nearly forgot; I couldn't convince Angie to let me go, I just legged it, what if she's still looking -"

"_She won't be_." Holly said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "_You know that phone call she received?_"

"How did you know about that?" Chris asked, stifling an exhausted yawn.

"_Wow, you really are burnt out!_" Holly chuckled. "_It was me, Chris. The instant the network came back up I made that call. You must have done well to delay the procedure… I was certain for a while that I was going to be too late. Angie believes someone screwed up and security determined the persocom could not be decommissioned yet. I expect when you were already gone she wasn't surprised. It would look like one of the company spooks had whisked you two away. You've seen the way the security team guarding LOKI operate; let me tell you, they're all like that._"

Chris grinned wearily. "Brilliant. You saved us, doing that. I'm just glad to be home. I can honestly say today was one of the most... interesting... days of my life."

"_Is something wrong?_"

"No. Yeah? I don't know, I guess it's hard to process. I think I'm burnt out, like you said."

"_But you want to come back, right? You'll come back tomorrow?"_

Chris watched Titch as she entertained herself on the sofa, testing the consistency of the cushions by hopping on each of them experimentally. It reminded him of the way a kitten or a puppy might find the most mundane household objects fascinating; as if confirming their understanding of the world through exploration and play.

"_...Chris?_"

"...Yeah. Sure."

"_Okay. Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow._"

Titch smiled at him as he hung up, hopping off the sofa for a moment to retrieve something from the floor. She seemed completely at ease, though Chris himself would probably be feeling the effects of the day's anxiety and stress for the rest of the week. It was strange - as if nothing traumatic had happened to her at all.

The little persocom scrambled back onto the sofa with a silvery packet of tablets. "Here," she squeaked.

"Titch," Chris grinned, "Those are multivitamins."

"No good?" Titch replied, looking crestfallen.

"They're good, but not for headaches."

"Oh! One moment, please!" Titch said, dashing away again.

"Titch-" Chris heaved himself from the sofa, getting up with a groan. Bed was a good idea, now.

"It's no problem!" Titch said, heading for the drawers.

"Come on, I can get my own medicine," Chris insisted, following her.

"I can do it!"

"Titch, stop; I'll do it."

Titch skidded to a halt on the kitchenette floor the moment those words left his mouth, and he blinked in surprise. "Why did you stop just then?"

"You told me to."

"I told you to stop before."

Titch cocked her head in puzzlement. "Erroneous: You said you can get your own medicine."

Chris raised an eyebrow. That should have been as good as a 'stop', really.

"Titch… earlier today, in Maintenance, why did you disobey Angie?"

"I don't remember disobeying her."

"You wouldn't let her start the procedure, remember?"

"I don't understand. Angie didn't instruct me to do anything."

Chris sifted through his memory of those moments. Come to think of it, Angie never did directly command Titch to obey. Her instructions were inferred only; a gesture, or a prompt that they needed to get started.

"...So you ignored her because it wasn't what you wanted and they weren't explicit commands?"

Titch nodded as he picked her up, depositing her on the worktop. Well, why would she want to to something that would lead to her demise? Doing such a thing would never make sense. He fished out some painkillers and popped two out, giving Titch the packaging. She examined it with interest while he filled a glass with water. The tap was quite loud, but the sound and sight of flowing water was relaxing all the same, and he stifled another yawn. He'd take these tablets and then go to bed, probably. There was no point in trying to do anything else today.

He raised the tablets to his mouth, but a projectile flew into his field of view, knocking them out of his hand and almost making him drop the glass in surprise. The tablets scattered across the worktop. He looked at the projectile, now on the floor; it was the painkiller packet.

"I _said _you didn't read the leaflet!" Titch admonished him, hands on tiny hips. "It says you have to read it first!"

Chris laughed as he retrieved the tablets. "I know that, but they always put that on there. Nobody reads them more than once."

"Oh…" Titch deflated somewhat, until Chris scooped her from the worktop.

"You're just looking out for me." He said, carrying her to the sofa. She giggled as he dropped her gently on a cushion.

"Well, I've had enough of today. Don't do anything mischievous and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Chris said, heading for the bedroom and opening the door. A dismayed squeak and a jingling bell made him turn around, but Titch was no longer on the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Titch said, pattering between his legs. "Don't leave me in there!"

"I'm going to bed. It's perfectly safe. This is my home."

"Can't I stay with you?" she asked, looking up at him imploringly.

"Uh… well, I guess so." Chris mumbled. He went back to grab a small cushion from the sofa, then brought it into the bedroom and popped it on the bedside table. Titch let him pick her up and put her there, where she sat contentedly while he went to get ready for bed.

It was still very early in the day for sleeping, but Chris had a feeling he wouldn't wake until morning. Climbing into bed was the best feeling ever.

"I'm glad we can stay together." Titch said quietly.

"Me too." Chris sighed, closing his eyes. It wouldn't take him long to fall asleep, but for a moment his exhausted mind kept ticking. The way Titch was behaving... something about it bothered him. Maybe she really was glad. Or what qualified for glad in an electronic sense. For all she appeared to be an intelligent life form, he had to remember: she was a persocom. The performance she put on for Angie, all frightened and nervous, and the way she wanted to stay in the same room with him now, may have been purely AI self-preservation at work. Any intelligence is driven to protect its own existence. They would always be convincing; he just had to remember that convincing was all it was... wasn't it?

Yes. Yes, it had to be. He took an enormous risk to save Titch today. Several, in fact. He definitely didn't regret it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Titch's adorable nature and inherent cuteness had invoked a protective instinct in him that wasn't meant for machines. If he thought about it, that was alarmingly illogical. It would be sensible to bear that in mind in the future. As long as he could remember, as long as he could ground himself in reality, it would never colour his decision-making where persocoms were involved. Resolving to remember that, he drifted into the wonderful embrace of unconsciousness.


	20. Chapter 20

The morning's weather was no better than yesterday's as Chris hurried back to NEIS headquarters. The wind tugged at his clothes, its chilling touch seeking ways to reach his body and causing him to shrug reflexively. But instead of warding off the cold, hunching into the jacket he was wearing only prompted something to wriggle underneath it.

"Are you okay?" he asked out loud, carefully jogging across the busy road.

"Mmmph," came the squeaky reply. Chris undid the zip a little and two bunches of deep red hair popped out.

"Phwa!" Titch gasped, tugging her arms free and comically waving a hand in front of her face. "It smells in there!" she giggled, flashing him a warm smile and surveying their surroundings. The smile faded quickly as her wide eyes drank in the busy street.

"...What?" Chris replied, bewildered. Titch didn't respond, so distracted was she by their surroundings. It was the first time she had been outside, save for the fire assembly point at NEIS headquarters. The passing cars in particular seemed to be of great interest to her; enormous, unfamiliar lumps of coloured metal trundling past in slow procession, disappearing into the unknown.

"Titch?" Chris prodded. With a jolt of realisation the little persocom squeaked in dismay, spinning around in her makeshift pouch, holding up her hands and waving them placatingly. "Oh! I-It's a joke! I'm joking Chris! You don't smell! Not at all!"

"I know I don't, I just… didn't think you could smell things."

"I can't!" Titch said, grabbing her tiny nose for emphasis and trailing nto silence. "It was - I meant - I just wanted to make you laugh…"

"Um... Can I ask why?"

"Your average word utterance per hour is 50% lower than yesterday's. I've concluded you are unhappy. Am I making you sad? Should I make more jokes?"

"You're not making me sad, don't be silly. And that's nice of you to offer, but I think I'm okay."

"Is it because of the trouble I caused yesterday?" Titch asked quietly.

Chris smiled in spite of himself. "I'm just not a morning person, that's all."

"WiODA unavailable. Please clarify?" Titch said, puzzled, "You are not a person in the morning?"

"It means I don't like early mornings, so I might be a bit quiet and reserved until later."

"Oh. Updating idioms." Titch chirped, eyes flashing for an instant. "Was I wrong to wake you? Your old keychain had an alarm set for six fourty-five."

"No, not at all. If you hadn't I'd have overslept. Even if I'm not a morning person, it doesn't mean I get to sleep in every morning. Listen, you should hide now; we're getting close."

"Right!" Titch nodded, burrowing beneath the jacket once more. Chris zipped it up behind her as NEIS headquarters loomed in the distance. It hadn't even been a full day yet, but he was fast getting used to having a persocom. It didn't feel so strange to talk to Titch any more. It had been, at first. Most interactions he'd had with persocoms up until yesterday had been limited in scope, since his immediate friends and family didn't own any. Most of his experience had been purely functional; making transactions at a store for instance, or being served at a restaurant or a bank. But Titch had no such specific purpose, and unbound by the social specificities of such roles it was uncanny how well she could hold her own in a conversation and interact with others. He'd never noticed that about miniature units or indeed persocoms in general before. Interacting with them the way he had yesterday was a novel experience, but to do so with a tiny, doll-like unit like Titch was downright surreal.

Of course, there were limitations. Her contributions to a conversation were simple, childlike even, and they became even more so when the subject strayed outside her narrow pool of knowledge. As a result there was an air of helpless naivete about her. But she had barely been active a single day; she was still young, insofar as a persocom could age. Her simple nature might never change -such were the basic capabilities of portable units, he was sure- but the odd questions would fade, and were probably to be expected until she filled the gaps in her general knowledge, especially now she had deliberately cut herself off from the wealth of information on the net.

Chris nodded to himself. Disabling WiODA had been wise of Holly to suggest; connecting via a company-owned WiODA account would provide evidence Titch was still active. He looked up at their destination; the huge NEIS building took up much of his field of vision now, but instead of yesterday morning's excitement, he felt only a sense of foreboding.

That realisation brought with it a small twinge of guilt. It wasn't like he lied to Titch. Not exactly. He wasn't much of a morning person, after all… but this wasn't morning blues. Having slept on it, his actions yesterday seemed outright insane. What was he thinking? Not only could he lose the new job, he could go to prison! There was a target painted on his back, he was sure. As he drew closer a security van drove by on its lazy path around the side of the building. He tried not to hurry towards the main entrance, shaking his head grumpily; as if he should feel guilty for lying to machines anyway!

If it was busy on the streets around the business park, it was even more so outside NEIS. Chris approached the main atrium doors, mingling with the rest of the morning's traffic. He hadn't expected to be going this way; when Holly told him over the phone that he'd have a specific route to follow, he'd envisaged some sort of secret side entrance. Perhaps his expectations had been coloured by the crazy events of the previous day! It did seem to keep to the lower levels as long as possible though, travelling anti-clockwise around the circular building's halls. He followed the intended route, turning right and threading his way through the crowd along the atrium's enormous ground floor, but didn't make it more than a few dozen feet before his path was blocked by an unfamiliar figure.

He was tall in stature, but his slender frame seemed a little strange swaddled as it was in a formal, expensive-looking suit. The smile he wore didn't seem to match his face properly either, failing to reach his eyes; those strangely colourless, gray irises seemed lifeless and dull. He was clearly a persocom, as evidenced by his rounded plastic ear modules. Chris eyed him warily, wondering if he'd found himself face to face with a particularly eerie example of Sarah's behavioural software projects.

"Good morning." the persocom spoke, his mellifluous voice gentle and pleasant, as he glided forward and extended a hand in greeting. It was yet another thing about him that didn't seem quite right. "Our new hire, I presume? Nice to meet you, Chris."

Chris offered his hand in return. The persocom's grip was firmer than his wiry appearance would have suggested. Two measured shakes. "Uh, likewise. Sorry, you appear to know my name, but who might you be?"

"I'm the Neurologic System's Operator. NSO, for short. It's a rather important role. I keep LOKI happy at all times to ensure effective operation." The smile painted on the persocom's face widened slightly. "You may call me Mordecai."

"Hi, Mordecai. What can I do for you today?" Chris smiled back, feeling his stomach drop precipitously. There was only one reason this conversation would occur.

"You were in LOKI's chamber yesterday, were you not?"

"Uh... yes, I was."

"Marvellous. Then you will recall that security protocol was breached when a persocom made an unauthorised connection to LOKI's systems, yes?"

"Sure, I remember... Like it was yesterday, haha..." Chris laughed weakly. Mordecai's smile grew wider still as he took another step forward, his empty eyes fixated on Chris. He spoke his next words with deliberate slowness.

"Where is that persocom, Chris?"

Chris replied carefully, meeting Mordecai's gaze. "...It was confiscated. I haven't seen it since. I am led to believe it will be destroyed, if it hasn't been already." The slender persocom would not stop smiling. His hollow eyes made the expression seem aggressive, predatory even, as if he had just cornered his prey.

"That is an interesting response, considering the available data."

"Available data-" Chris began, as someone grabbed him by the arm. He stifled a shout, spinning to look at the security guard who would surely be stood beside him.

"_You_." A pink-haired persocom replied instead, eyeing him dangerously, "You won't get away with this, you know."

"C-Caz? What are you doing here?" Chris stammered, taken aback.

Mordecai seemed surprised too; his smile had abated somewhat as he looked at Caz in puzzlement, but in moments it had bounced back. "You know something, don't you?" he interjected, enthused. "Wonderful. My dear, it is of utmost importance you give me that information."

"I _do_ know something! Chris broke the rules, and then some!" Caz said venomously, glowering at Chris. She still had a grip on his arm. The other held a brown satchel as if she were ready to swing it at his head. She looked furious… He could feel the panic rising inside him. Chris held up his free hand placatingly, desperately wishing he was better at improvising. "Uh… I… I can explain?"

"Go on then. I'm listening." Caz growled. The satchel swung gently from side to side as both persocoms looked at him expectantly. "This had better be good, Chris."

Caught right at the entrance… and technically red-handed, with Titch right there in his jacket! What was he going to say?! He found himself wishing that Holly was nearby. "Uh... um… well I haven't, uh, you see, yesterday… I mean, I didn't do anything, really-"

"Liar!" Caz barked, making him jump. "I'll tell you what he did, Mordecai. It was the most _awful _contravention of the rules, you'll never believe it." she paused, turning to the other persocom and scowling for dramatic effect. "He _abandoned_ me in my own department yesterday, without a single decent photo! Imagine that!"

Chris and Mordecai blinked in surprise. "That's not what we were talking about." Mordecai said, his smile adjusting itself slightly. "Furthermore, I am unaware of the specific rules you're referring to."

"_My_ rules, obviously! And he broke them _completely_!"

"That is of no importance. We were talking about a missing persocom. Now, if you have nothing to add-"

"Oh?" Caz broke into a mischievous grin, slinging the satchel over her shoulder and dragging Chris behind her across the atrium floor. She shouted over her shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd. "Sorry, guess I have no idea then! Bye, now!"

"Excuse me! Excuse me, we're not finished here-" Mordecai called after them, raising his voice, but Caz ignored him and quickened her pace. Chris was forced to trot after her so as to not fall flat on his nose.

"What's going on, Caz?"

"You're very easily flustered, aren't you Chris? It's adorable, but it makes me wonder… what did you _think_ I was talking about?" she flashed him that mischievous grin again, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, but he didn't respond. He _couldn't_. Caz fielded conversations at a million miles per hour; he was certain she'd run circles around him and he'd somehow wind up revealing everything. True enough, she waited only a moment before concluding he wouldn't take the bait.

"You must keep your distance from Mordecai, he's awful. I'm gonna get you away from him, 'kay?" Caz let go of his arm and grabbed his hand instead, patting it reassuringly. "_That's_ what's happening."

"Thanks, but haven't you done that already?" Chris said, peering through the crowd behind them. He really needed to get to James as quickly as possible.

"Oh no, he's definitely following us. He wants you for something." Caz said, reawakening that wave of panic in Chris's chest as she pulled him towards the atrium's reception desk. "Not to worry though! We'll sort out this little mess." When they emerged from the bustling passers-by, Mika spotted them and waved happily.

"Hi, Mika! Look what I found!" Caz cried, ducking the fabric-covered chain that served to close the entrance to the circular island. Unable to free his hand, Chris was forced to duck as well or risk garotting himself as she hauled him inside. She was surprisingly strong.

"Hi, you two!" Mika said softly, swivelling around in her seat. Her every movement seemed calm and gentle, as if she were the polar opposite of the wildly energetic Caz. "What can I help you with today?"

"As if you didn't know!" Caz scoffed, shooing Mika out of her seat and towards the island entrance. "You can help me make Chris smile. But first, we need to borrow you!"

"Wow, already?" Mika chuckled, her apparent lack of confusion only making Chris's worse. "I'm glad you're on top of things, Caz! You work quickly!" She smiled as she unhooked the reception's chain to let them out. "It's nice to see you again, Chris. I didn't think you'd visit so soon."

"Nice to see you too," he replied, bemused. They trotted from the island as a group, heading beneath the first level walkway to travel the innermost part of the atrium's curve, where the crowds were thinner. Not many people ventured this far in, what with the majority of the offices being on the upper levels. It risked exposure since they were easier to spot, but conversely allowed them faster passage.

Caz glanced repeatedly over her shoulder, scanning the crowd. "So where are you headed, Chris?"

"Uh… to James' office, actually."

"Perfect! You were given a route for it, right?"

"Yeah, um, how did you know-"

"Great! Better forget it though, 'cause we're changing course! Hard to port, me mateys!" Caz ducked through a set of double-doors, followed by the others. They immediately found themselves in the dimly lit corridors of the lower level. The crazy-haired persocom moved even faster now, maintaining a hard jog down the corridor. Chris hoped it would be enough. He had to believe that if he could get to James' office in time, everything would be okay.

"Hey, don't you have a persocom now?" Mika piped up. "I caught a glimpse of her yesterday; she looked absolutely wonderful!"

"Y-yeah… I'll have to introduce you, won't I?" Chris replied. Mika smiled warmly. Like Caz, her demeanour seemed light-hearted and conversational, as if they were both completely at ease with their current situation. But then they weren't aware of the stakes, were they? He couldn't tell them what was going on. Tell no-one, Holly had said.

"Oooh, you've seen her, Mika? She's _wonderful_?" Caz cooed, pushing through another set of doors. "Don't hide her from me Chris! Has she been in your pocket this whole time? Lemme see!"

"Oh, she's… in my office-"

"_Wow!_" Caz gasped and span around, jogging backwards down the corridor, "You got an office to yourself on your _first day_? Way to go, Chris! Hey, you must have really impressed them at the interviews, huh?"

"Ah, uh… well… home office, actually." Chris corrected quickly. Why was he so bad at improvising?

Caz tapped her chin in thought, weaving absent-mindedly around a corner. "Oh? But don't you live in a flat? I swear I overheard you saying that while you were strolling around with Holly yesterday, you know, _ignoring_ me and all-"

"Oh, ah, well it's a very… small... office…"

"Wait, so you really left her at home? _Alone?_ Chris!" Caz chided him. "Surely you're not that mean! Be honest: you forgot her, didn't you!"

"N-no! I mean, _yes_, she's at home, but it was intentional-"

Caz gasped without missing a beat, pointing an accusatory finger. "Then you _abandoned_ her! Just like you did me yesterday!"

"Woa! No I didn't!" Chris waved his hands in desperation, scrambling for an excuse. Mika chuckled, and Caz grinned mischievously. Her eyes were flickering when she looked at him; was she taking pictures again? "I just didn't… I mean I'm getting used to… I keep worrying I'm going to drop her, you know? S-so I left her there and today I'll get a, I don't know, something to carry her with, maybe-"

"Ah yes, miniature models don't take up much space, do they?" Mika beamed. "That's by design, after all."

"That's right, Mika! But what could you use? Ooo I know, a cup holder would work! You could hook it onto a shirt pocket." Caz laughed at Chris's expression. "Well don't tell me you were thinking of putting her in a _bag_! Now _that_ would be crazy!"

Mika nodded at that, "Miniatures aren't really meant to go in bags, Chris. I'm sure she'd be fine just perched on your shoulder. It's very kind of you to worry, but we're really not that fragile!"

"That's a… uh, a good point. Well, maybe I'll have to rethink that, then..." Chris mumbled.

"Mmm. I tried perching on shoulders once." Caz sighed wistfully, glancing down the corridor behind them. "It looked like fun."

"Oh yes, they updated company policy after that, didn't they?" Mika replied, "What was it again? '_No piggybacks, shoulder-riding, or other methods heretofore undescribed involving the carrying of full-sized persocoms by staff while on company premises'_."

"Yeah that's it. Shame, I really thought I could just hop on up there." Caz's voice was tinged with regret.

Mika nodded. "Of course, it transpires miniature persocoms don't need to warn people when they climb them because they're so small."

"I never even got to apologise to that guy. Well, lesson learned!" Caz chuckled, "You know he's probably out of the hospital now, maybe if he learns to walk again we can make amends?"

"You put someone in the hospital?" Chris repeated, alarmed. The two persocoms giggled.

"We're only joking, Chris." Mika reassured him, "That would never happen. Caz is way too loud to sneak up on someone without a noisy atrium to cover her." She smiled again, and Chris couldn't help but return it properly this time. Atrium or not, Caz had certainly made him jump that morning!

"Aha, he smiled! Well, that was easy enough," Mika tinkled a little laugh.

"Aw… You were right Mika, he _does _have an adorable smile!" Caz laughed, prancing around them as they jogged, and surreptitiously capturing a few more images.

"You'll wear your eyes out, Caz." Mika warned her. Caz chuckled at that, but a moment later her face fell, as if she'd noticed something unpleasant behind them. Mika turned her head too, both of them looking back down the corridor.

"Oh dear, maybe we should concentrate a little." Caz murmured. "This isn't working."

"What do you mean?" Chris looked back anxiously. There was nothing to be seen in the gloom.

"I mean we need to run, 'kay?" Caz said cheerfully, tearing away down the corridor.

"Hurry now." Mika said gently, taking Chris by the arm and powering after the pink haired persocom. It really was alarming how fast they could move. Hard as it was for him to keep up, running didn't seem to be any effort for them at all. The doors ahead crashed apart as Caz plowed through them, spinning around to hold them open for the other two.

"Turn right!" she shouted gleefully, slamming the door shut after they thundered past her. Their feet hammered dully on the carpet as they rushed through the empty corridor, Caz humming happily under her breath.

"He's gaining on us." Mika remarked.

"This is impossible. He's catching up with us?" Chris gasped. He was rapidly running out of air.

"Yep." Caz chuckled, "Rapidly. Lucky he keeps in constant communication with LOKI, if he ever stopped transmitting I wouldn't be able to tell how close he was! Oh well, we better crank it up a notch!" she darted forward, shoving the door ahead of them open. "Mika?"

"Put your arm around me, Chris." Mika said, grabbing him by the waist and ignoring his protests. Despite her slender frame, she gripped him with surprising strength. "Use your feet to keep your weight off the ground as much as possible, okay?"

"What are you going to d- whoaaa!" Chris yelled as they accelerated, his feet practically skipping along the ground. There was no way he could have moved this fast on his own!

"Wheeeee!" Caz squealed, surging ahead. "Ah, it's good to stretch those servos every once in a while!"

"How can Mordecai be this fast?" Chris panted, his hair ruffled by the wind.

"No no, silly! The problem is we're being _slow_!" Caz giggled. She accelerated and dropped back a few times to illustrate the point. Chris couldn't guess at Mika's speed with him in tow, but it must have been beyond the limits of human athleticism. The only objects they whipped past were the doors leading off to various utilities on the lower level, presumably related to the running and operation of LOKI.

They barrelled around another corner only to skid to a halt in the middle of the narrow corridor. It was blocked by security persocoms further ahead; three of them, threatening forms just visible in the distant dimness.

"Mordecai set security on us! We'll be decommissioned!" Mika gasped, but Caz shook her head.

"No, he can't just do that. He's made something up to slow us down, I expect. Seems he _really_ wants to catch you, Chris. I wonder why?" She held up her satchel, calling out to the guards. "Looking for this?"

The way the guards glared at the bag confirmed her suspicions. "See? He told them we've stolen something, I'm sure of it." she nodded in satisfaction, but Chris felt the panic bubbling within him again. It was technically true.

Mika glanced behind them. "What do you suggest, Caz?"

"Altitude!" Caz declared boldly, pointing further up the corridor. It was a door for a small stairwell to the upper levels. She grinned excitedly at the security guards, now advancing slowly towards them. They would soon block the path to that door. "Mika, if you could lead Chris the rest of the way?"

"No problem. You give Mordecai a run for his money!"

What was she doing? Chris tried to interrupt. "Hang on-"

Caz gave them a playful salute, shrugging her satchel from her shoulder and wielding it like a medieval flail. "I'll run rings around him! Thanks Mika, you're the best!"

"Caz, wait a second!"

The corridor exploded into action. Caz sprang towards the security persocoms, the carpet buckling behind the balls of her feet with every step. The guards leant into a sprint in response, hurtling forwards. Mika's arm dug into Chris as she hauled him towards the door in Caz's wake. They shot down the narrow passageway as the guards drew closer. In moments the two groups would collide.

Caz had built up enormous speed. Unclipping her satchel strap at one end, she leapt into the air, kicking the door to the stairwell open and propelling herself towards the opposite wall in one smooth motion. She pushed off the wall with her other foot, pivoting into a high arc that carried her upside-down over the heads of the guards, the strap of her satchel held taut between her outstretched arms. It caught them in the chest, pulling them to the ground. Caz tumbled roughly to the floor behind them before rolling to her feet and taking off again. The last Chris saw of her, she was bolting away down the corridor, cackling with glee and whirling her satchel over her head.

Mika and Chris darted through the door to the stairwell, slamming it shut behind them.

"Give me a hand with this, quickly!" Mika said, grabbing at the little door handle. They heaved at it together, snapping it off the door and revealing the spindle inside. Mika snatched it free not a moment too soon; as they ran up the stairwell, the door handle on the other side rattled angrily.

"What the - hell just - happened, Mika?!" Chris panted, "We're being chased - by security now? And Caz - what was that - I just saw? Can - all persocoms do that? Can you?"

"I've never tried!" Mika laughed. She was breathing hard too, but like Holly she seemed to be able to control it at will.

"The guards, will they-"

"I expect they'll chase her now that they think she's got these mysterious stolen goods, and Mordecai would have to break down that door to get back on our trail. We've bought ourselves some time."

"But security is - serious - is she going to - be okay?"

Mika nodded emphatically. "You should know, marketing's persocoms are unusual. Caz more than most! She's probably having more fun right now than she would've all year, otherwise. Let's focus on getting you to James." They reached a door that led to a passageway in a first-floor department Chris recognised as part of Neurolectrics. It was busy here; staff were still entering the area, pouring into their departments to start the working day. In all the bustle nobody paid a panting man and woman any heed. Chris felt his breath come back as they walked briskly through labs filled with unfamiliar electronics and test equipment.

It would have been fascinating in more relaxed circumstances. All this potential for good work, yet all he seemed to get in was trouble! Day one had been unbelievable. Its successor wasn't turning out any better, so far. Was it worth it? He sighed wearily. "I'm really not sure this is going to work out for me, career wise." he muttered, "There seems to be a lot of running and hiding involved."

Mika looked askance at him. "Did you do a lot of this yesterday?"

"Uh… I was late on the way in?" Chris replied, kicking himself.

"And the hiding?"

Hiding! Titch! Chris patted his jacket in a panic. In all the commotion he'd forgotten she was hidden under there. He felt her tap him on the chest and sighed in relief; she was okay. He noticed Mika looking at him expectantly. "Oh… neighbour's dog got out? Vicious little thing."

"...Is that so?" Mika said softly, smiling in amusement as she lead him towards another set of stairs. Chris winced. Even by his standards, that was an atrociously pathetic lie. But he couldn't tell her what really happened. It was of utmost importance that nobody know.

They traversed another flight of stairs, exiting at one of the Engineering departments encircling the Mechatronics factory floor. He could hear the noise of the factory quite clearly in here, and the corridors were messier than most others in the building, as if the people within them were too busy working to spend any time maintaining their environment. Chris anticipated a fair distance remained, but they had travelled so far around the building escaping Mordecai that it was only a couple of minutes before they arrived at James' personal office.

"Here we are." Mika beamed, her delicate voice filled with happiness. "Delivered safe and sound!"

"Thank you so much, Mika." Chris said, "I get the feeling you and Caz did me a big favour today."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Mika waved, turning to leave.

"Hang on... what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to help Caz. We'll try and keep Mordecai occupied while you lay low, okay? Hopefully he'll lose interest in you."

"I appreciate that, but please be careful." Chris found himself saying. "Don't take any big risks on my account."

"That's sweet of you to say." Mika smiled, pausing for a moment. "...You know it's strange… Your first day on the job, the whole building gets turned upside-down within hours. The second day, we're barely minutes into the morning and already playing hide and seek in the halls..."

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Aha, um… yeah… that's really strange…"

"That's not the strange bit. The strange bit is I find myself looking forward to tomorrow!" Mika's tinkly laugh floated after her as she headed for the stairs, and Chris shook his head in bemusement. In her own way, she was _easily_ as odd as Caz. He had a feeling those two spent a lot of time together.


	21. Chapter 21

Chris peered through the glass door. The interior looked like a less elaborate, more utilitarian version of the offices up in Marketing. Except for the door, the only glass surfaces to be seen were the windows overlooking the Mechatronics factory floor. They appeared to have the same liquid crystal properties though, set in a partially transparent state. James appeared to be making use of the projection system too; the walls were covered in glowing design documentation from one of the company's projects and the lights were dimmed.

A busy office overlooking a noisy factory... It was a miracle James could be productive here. But he seemed to be in his element, surrounded as he was by the mechanical drawings projected onto the walls of the room. At least he would have been, were he not staring listlessly into the middle distance with an anxious look on his face. Chris knocked on the door, pushing it open. The other man's expression soured as soon as their eyes met. He nodded at a chair on the other side of his desk.

"Holly said you'd come here. Sit down."

Chris took the chair warily, unzipping his jacket and allowing Titch to wriggle free. The tiny persocom clambered into his lap to take stock of their surroundings. James seemed visibly uneasy about having her in his office; when she cheeped a warm greeting at him, he only frowned in response, reaching for a button on the desk that set the glass in the walls and door to their maximum opacity. Whatever the cause of his displeasure, it was clearly less interesting to Titch than the room itself, as in mere moments she had scrambled to the floor only to find her way on top of a large filing cabinet. Chris made sure to watch her carefully; her movements were something he would keep himself acutely aware of, after yesterday.

"I found out about ten minutes ago that Titch not only still existed, but would be arriving in my office this morning. What the hell is going on? What did you do?" James demanded quietly.

"He rescued me." Titch squeaked, studying the room from her newfound vantage point.

"Yesterday, you and Holly." James clarified, ignoring her. His bluntness was alarming in contrast to his usual, meandering verbosity. "What were you playing at? That fire alarm… was that you?"

Chris nodded wordlessly, and the other man swore angrily under his breath. That was unexpected... James hadn't known? Wouldn't James have shared Holly's attitude towards saving Titch? Come to think of it, Chris had originally suspected James was the one behind it all, but that didn't appear to be the case. James muttered to himself angrily.

"I knew she'd try to interfere. I _knew_ it. Why didn't I say something? Stupid persocom-woman. Why would you do this to me?"

"So... you didn't condone any of this? You didn't know what Holly was doing?"

James studied Chris, an unreadable expression on his face. "You're late. I expected you several minutes ago."

"Yeah, about that-"

"Our journey was extended due to an eleven minute diversion. We ran into a persocom called Mordecai." Titch squeaked. "I heard him from my hiding place. He sounded scary."

"_What?_" James leapt from his chair, glaring at Chris. "What did he say to you? What did you say to him? Tell me everything! Right now!"

"Nothing, nothing! Actually Caz rescued me, it was the weirdest thing-"

"Caz. Oh, thank god." James sighed in relief, sinking back into his chair. "You really told him nothing?"

"Nothing. James, you're making me anxious. In fact, _everything_ is making me anxious! What am I supposed to do now? It's fifteen minutes into the day and I've already been chased by security again!"

"You what? Chased? Security? You must be mistaken. He can't do that."

"I'm serious! Caz thought he may have told them I stole something in order to solicit their help. Only that's not really a lie, is it? I would've warned her but she went racing off with them hot on her heels."

"She did, huh?" James murmured, momentarily lost in thought. He didn't seem nearly as concerned about that as Chris expected. "I'm sure Caz will be fine. But this means Mordecai is onto Holly's ruse. _That_ means her diversionary tactics haven't worked, at least not properly. But if he really knew what happened he wouldn't have tried to eke it out of you. I guess that's some small comfort."

"Yeah, great. And what happens when he finds me again? I can't sneak around or be chaperoned by other persocoms forever. Look... Holly told me to come here. Do you know what she has planned that she thinks will make this all blow over? Because that's kind of what I need to hear after yesterday."

"I don't. Sorry Chris, but I'm just as in the dark as you are. Holly made efforts to cover this up; she told me that much, but I don't know if Mordecai was a factor she considered, at least not so soon after yesterday. He isn't the kind to get caught up chasing the bureaucratic process. Once he decided Titch should be decommissioned, his involvement would have ended."

"What? This was Mordecai's call?"

"No, it's procedure. But Mordecai could have overridden it yesterday by quickly confirming Titch only patched into the system without actually doing anything. I happen to know he didn't, though. Instead he insisted on performing a full systems audit. That might explain how he found out about you and Holly so quickly."

It did make sense. He glanced at Titch; with folded arms and a hand on her chin, she was nodding as if James' words were laden with profound wisdom. She giggled when she noticed Chris watching. He was about to ask James about the audit when the office door clicked open. All three of them span round to see Holly's frame silhouetted in the hallway's light. She strode inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Holly!" Titch cried, bursting with happiness. She pattered to the edge of the filing cabinet, waving enthusiastically.

"Where've you been?!" James scowled, crossing his arms. It was clear he wanted a reaction, but it wasn't obvious if Holly had noticed. In fact, she appeared to be pointedly ignoring him, only sparing a moment to smile and wave at Chris before turning to Titch. The little persocom seemed impervious to the tense atmosphere in the room, bell tinkling as she bounced from foot to foot in excitement.

James huffed indignantly. "Thanks for the morning's message Holly, I'm happy we could discuss this-"

"I'm glad you're okay, Titch." Holly spoke over him, smiling.

"Me too! Guess how I got rescued!" Titch squeaked, launching into a dramatic retelling of yesterday's events without waiting for an answer. Holly gently held up a hand to shush her.

"We're in a bit of a rush Titch, but I'd love to hear about it later. Would that be okay?" She smiled at the little persocom's emphatic nodding.

"You're really taking the piss, you know that, right?" James growled. "Look at the trouble you're causing! You know the consequences! Was it worth it?"

"I'm grateful for your concern." Holly replied, though it sounded more like a warning than gratitude. "And yes, it was worth it."

"I really hope you're right about that Holly, because your ethics drew Mordecai's attention, and now he's hunting for Chris. Soon he'll come for us, and look! Look here! We're all together under the same ceiling, and we even brought the persocom the fucking company wanted destroyed, isn't that perfect?"

Holly glared at him, apparently unfazed. "James, she needs a new UUID. Are you going to help, or will you just keep acting like a petulant child?"

"Oh, so _that's _why you wanted the NTAG? I see. Well since you apparently tricked me into swiping the equipment you need this morning, and you've smuggled her into my office, it doesn't look like I have much of a choice now, does it?"

"I suppose not." Holly sniffed.

"You're unbelievable!"

"We don't have time for this James, Mordecai will-"

"Yeah, that's top priority for you now, isn't it? Thanks for the heads-up on that by the way, really did Chris and I a huge favour there-"

"I only found out minutes ago! Not that it matters if we _hurry_ \- do you understand? If we're quick about this, Mordecai won't have any evidence to go on beyond some mismatched data and a hunch."

"If you hadn't gone running off to play the heroine and made a mess trying to hide it, there wouldn't be _any_ evidence to go on!" James scowled again, ripping open one of the drawers by his desk. For all he frequently frustrated Holly, it seemed she was easily capable of doing the same to him. As James rummaged within the drawer, he turned the scowl on Chris instead. "Now I know what it actually is, I might as well fill you in on what Holly wants to do. Each persocom has a UUID, as you know. Well, with Titch having been scheduled for destruction, there's no way her UUID can make an appearance here again. She can't cable up to any terminals, she can't use WiODA… in fact, she can't even be scanned passively." He produced some cables from the desk; Chris recognised their connectors as belonging to an NTAG scanner.

"So we need to swap out the UUID Titch has with another." Chris guessed, receiving a nod from James as he inspected the cables.

"Sort of. They're hard-coded in the neurologic core, so we can't change them. We have to spoof them instead."

"Hang on, yesterday we were getting scanned, and when they came to me, Holly put her hand out and tricked-"

"She did _what_?"

"Uh… Well, we were getting scanned. At the fire assembly point. They thought I was a persocom… long story short, Holly tricked the scanner so I wouldn't get caught. Does that mean she has these software changes?"

"She put herself at risk spoofing a UUID for you?" James growled. His expression looked potent enough to bore holes through solid steel.

"_James_." Holly's voice carried that warning tone again. The man sighed and softened before continuing.

"Listen... spoofing a UUID is different to replacing one. You're clearly aware Holly can do it, as she's so kindly demonstrated," he glowered at her for a moment, "and it's exactly the sort of trickery we need to get Titch to do, but she needs some tweaks to the software in her radio gear. Then as far as any outside system is concerned, Titch has an entirely different identity."

"But her real UUID still exists?"

"We can't change that, but it's not too big a problem, since for all normal communication her true UUID won't be revealed. If you cabled her up to an NTAG you could see the real one, but that's about it."

"Right… okay, sounds simple enough." Chris said, frowning in thought.

James nodded solemnly. "Yeah it _sounds_ simple in principle, but it's highly illegal-"

"But nothing. It needs to be done." Holly said, walking over with Titch perched happily on her shoulder.

"What about all those persocoms she communicated with yesterday? Won't they have her UUID?" Chris asked, concerned. "It would be suspicious if her UUID suddenly changed, wouldn't it?"

Titch shook her head, her little bell tinkling. "I only shared it with Holly." she squeaked.

"That's good, little one. You sit on the desk now," Holly gently lowered the tiny persocom to the work surface. Titch examined its length, taking in its dimensions before pattering to the very middle and plopping herself obediently into a cross-legged position.

"Right then, let's get started." James grumbled, digging once more inside his desk and producing one of the boxes Chris recognised from the yesterday as an NTAG scanner. "Titch, if you'd take this cable please?" he handed a cable to her, which she popped into the comm panel disguised as a hairband on her head. Holly selected another, deftly connecting it to a port inside her left ear pod.

"We've never tried this on a miniature unit before. Do you think this will work?" James muttered.

"She's not equipped with the standard Minito modems." Holly replied, as her eyes began to flash. "She should be capable."

"_Should_? Well that's reassuring, it's nice to know this whole thing hinges on a '_should'_".

"Connected." Holly murmured, cupping Titch with her hands. "Entering PFU mode." Chris started when Titch flopped lifelessly into Holly's grasp, but the lack of reaction from the others suggested it was expected. Holly frowned in concentration, her eyes flashing rapidly now. "Uploading new baseband firmware… so far so good. James, I need a seed."

James nodded expectantly. "Of course. How do you want it?"

"Draw a few shapes on that notepad there." Holly suggested, nodding her head at the pad on the table.

"Holly is generating a new UUID," James explained as he scribbled, seeing the confused on look on Chris's face, "True random data helps. She'll analyse the relative positions of the vertices in my drawing and use that randomness for a good result."

"That's right," Holly said, "There are lots of ways to generate random data, but this one is particularly-" she stopped abruptly mid-sentence, looking worriedly towards the office door.

"What is it?" James whispered.

"Transmissions in the corridor. James, it's the NSO."

"Shit. How long?"

"Twenty seconds."

"Shit. Shit! Is it done?" James hissed, beginning to scrape the equipment back into his desk drawers. After another frantic second of computation Holly nodded, tugging the cables free from herself and Titch. They quickly disappeared from sight while the tiny persocom awakened.

Holly plucked Titch from the desk and span around, yanking open the top filing cabinet drawer and depositing her as far back as she could go, behind all the paperwork. She put a finger to her lips and Titch nodded timidly, hugging her knees as the closing drawer plunged her into darkness.

"Get rid of that!" Holly whispered to James, pointing to his notepad as she stepped away from the cabinet. The office door burst open just after she stopped moving, revealing a slender persocom in an expensive suit. Mordecai walked into the room with oddly deliberate, gentle steps. His empty grey eyes took in all three of them, lingering on Chris as his painted-on smile acquired a triumphant quality.

"Good morning." he said, in his concordant, sickly-sweet voice.

"What a surprise! To what do we owe the pleasure, Mordy?" James grinned, leaning forward over his desk and clasping his hands together.

"I prefer Mordecai, as well you know. I'm just stopping by. Wanted to make sure you were all… okay… following the trouble in LOKI's chamber."

"We're just fine, thanks." James said, his tone of voice implying that Mordecai should be on his way. When it didn't work, he carried on. "How about LOKI? Not too rattled, I hope?"

Mordecai gazed at James for a moment before replying. The never-ending smile was fast becoming creepy. It played on his lips now, wavering in intensity as if he were no longer sure how happy an expression he wanted to make.

"Not too rattled, no." The persocom said, swivelling his attention back to Chris. "Fortunately for most of us. LOKI is very important to the company."

"I can imagine," Chris replied. "It was fascinating to look around down there. LOKI is a very impressive sight to behold."

"Thank you!" Mordecai's smile reached his eyes for the first time since he entered the office, but the effect was momentary. "Yes, LOKI is quite marvellous. But what a terrible shame that he had to be disturbed. And it was to be such a productive afternoon, as well."

James nodded. "Of course, of course. But really, LOKI should know better, don't you think? I mean, inviting a barely-initialised persocom to explore a room full of rackmounted equipment like that…"

"The same could be said of the employee," Mordecai replied casually, beginning to wander about the room, "who allowed a persocom to commit so blatant a breach of protocol. That was what you were trying to imply in our meeting yesterday, was it not? That the little persocom couldn't have known any better?" He made pecking motions with his head, bobbing it around the various objects on the shelves and cabinets in the room. It appeared he was looking for something, winding a path that brought him round to the cabinet containing Titch.

"Is there something we can help you find?" Holly demanded bluntly, crossing her arms. Mordecai raised his eyebrows at her aggression, maintaining his unusual smile.

"There's an awful lot of small spaces in this room, isn't there?" he mused, inching the top drawer open and peering inside. It appeared full of files comprising paper copies of various old projects. The smile never left his face. "You really should get rid of these. LOKI stores all our documentation now."

"It's nice to have a backup." Holly replied acerbically.

Mordecai allow the drawer to clunk shut, the sides of his mouth twitching. "My dear, it almost sounds as if you were implying LOKI might lose company data."

"Accidents happen." James nodded solemnly. "It's no bad thing to be prepared."

"...Accidents... happen..." Mordecai repeated slowly, as if testing unfamiliar words. He tapped his chin in thought, smiling all the while. "What an interesting supposition. Do tell, what accident do you perceive occurring that might threaten LOKI's integrity?"

"How are we supposed to know? That's the point of taking precautions."

"Ah, yes. Well nobody can fault that kind of logic. I am aware of another 'accident', as it happens. It seems the persocom responsible for yesterday's catastrophe was marked to be decommissioned for analysis, but the data seems to be somewhat... out of alignment. You see, there are some interesting inconsistencies in the records from yesterday that lead me to believe the persocom was not decommissioned and might even have been misappropriated." Mordecai looked at Chris. "Obviously that would be a grievous offence for an employee to perpetrate."

"Oh?" Holly cocked an eyebrow, eyes flashing as she contacted the company network. "Hmm. It says the persocom in question was marked as eradicated, no remarks in the comment log." She met Mordecai's gaze levelly. "Sounds about right to me."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it? But then, I can't help but wonder why there aren't any remains to account for, nor documentation of their disposal or recycling. Or why the work orders for maintenance list the job as never having been assigned."

"I guess maintenance need to get better at updating their logs if they're getting so out of date."

"I guess they do." Mordecai smiled, walking languidly to the door. He paused for a moment, tapping his chin as if he'd just had an idle thought and turning around.

"Say, it does seem a bit chilly in here, doesn't it? Don't you think?"

Everyone in the room fell still. The blood drained out of James' face, and Chris felt his own doing the same. Of course. Mordecai spent all that time in low light, and in LOKI's chamber. This morning he'd been able to follow Chris and the others even while far out of sight in those corridors. Of _course_ he'd have the ability...

"It seems fine to me." James said with false cheer.

"No, no I'm quite sure." Mordecai mused, striding back into the room.

"Well I guess we'll contact maintenance to get that looked at, then."

"Oh dear. But they're so disorganised!" Mordecai sighed, pointedly flicking his hollow eyes towards Holly. The smile was becoming positively grisly, now. "How about a bit of thermographic imaging to find the source of that draft?"

"Please, don't trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble at all."

"It can wait."

"I insist." Mordecai replied, the pupils of his eyes taking on a shimmering quality. He swivelled them around the room, drinking in the thermal data. They lingered on the desk surface, and the top of the filing cabinet. Places Titch had been.

"Well, now. That _is_ interesting." Mordecai walked over to the cabinet. "It seems you have a leak after all."

The door burst open as security guards filed in, leaving Chris and the others cornered at the back of the office. They looked on fearfully as Mordecai slowly pulled the top drawer open, baring his teeth as his smile reached its climax. Titch cowered away from him behind the old paperwork, curled up in the far corner of the drawer. She squeaked n dismay when he reached in and snatched her.

"Hello, little one." Mordecai span a slow circle, holding Titch up for all to see as she squirmed in his grasp. The hateful persocom then turned to Chris. "I guess this is it for you. How unfortunate; you might have been an asset to LOKI, eventually..."

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Chris said as bluntly as he could. His nerves were in tatters; hopefully it wasn't showing.

"...What?"

"Who's that?" Chris nodded dismissively at Titch. "Do you think she's mine?"

"Isn't she?"

"Never seen her before in my life."

"Oh? Then I suppose you won't mind if I check her UUID?" Mordecai said.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Go right ahead. I told you my persocom was confiscated yesterday."

Mordecai's eyes flashed, and Titch sent a silent, reluctant response. His eyebrows twitched in confusion, and he walked over to the guards, pulling from one of their belts a device quite like the one Chris and Holly had been scanned with yesterday. After waving it over Titch's cringing body, it peeped a response and his eyebrows twitched again. The smile on his face hesitated.

"It seems this isn't the persocom I was looking for." he said, heading lazily for the door. "It's just a spare model. I suppose you won't mind if we decommission her for analysis, then? I'm sure we'll confirm she hasn't been tampered with in any way…"

Chris felt Holly's hand on his shoulder, holding him in his chair - apparently he had just tried to get up. Mordecai actually chuckled at that; a sweet, pleasant laugh that seemed laden with pleasure. Chris gripped the armrests with clenched fists as Mordecai strolled out of the door with the security persocoms in tow. Faced with the prospect of decommissioning again, Titch began to squeak in distress.

"What the fuck, Holly?" he hissed, as she shoved him back down a second time.

"I'm thinking!" She hissed back, furrowing her brow.

A commotion was rising in the corridor outside; sounds of raised voices and a scuffle breaking out. Chris shrugged Holly's hand from his shoulder, rushing to the door and following the direction Mordecai had taken down the passageway. The guards out there were scrabbling over something in front of Mordecai, who still held Titch in his grasp.

"LEMMESEE!" a shrill voice shouted. Chris caught a flash of pink before a satchel sailed into the air in a parabolic curve that brought it crashing onto the head of one of the guards. Caz emerged on top of the pile, somehow climbing over the persocom she just clocked, a hungry look in her eyes.

"Ohh! There she is!" she cooed, leaping over the guards and advancing on Mordecai. "There's the source of that sound! She looks so adorable! Is she yours? I didn't know persocoms could have persocoms! I want one! Who can set this up for me? Can mine have a little bow like that? Just sooo cute!"

Mordecai backed away from the crazed persocom, apparently alarmed enough that his smile almost disappeared entirely. The guards managed to untangle themselves and grab Caz before she could get too close, but with them out of her path to Titch she barely paid them any attention. She wriggled in excitement, fixated on getting to her target. Her eyes were flickering, hungrily capturing more images. Even Titch shied away from her, unsure whether this persocom would be any safer than the one who currently held her hostage.

"What's all the noise for?" Holly demanded, arriving with James in tow. She grabbed Chris by the arm before he could get any closer to Mordecai, shooting him a warning glare.

"Mordecai has his own persocom!" Caz cried, still writhing in her captives' grasp. "Isn't that amazing?"

"This persocom belongs to no-one. It is to be decommissioned." Mordecai said, his smile slowly recovering.

"Hang on a minute, Chris needs a persocom after yesterday!" Caz gasped, "If that one is spare, just repurpose her!"

"That's a wonderful idea!" Mika beamed, her eyes flashing as she appeared from behind the security guards. They moved for her as she gently shooed them aside. "I have access to the registration systems, I'll start the allocation process."

Realising his imminent loss of control on the situation, Mordecai's smile vanished from his face for the first time. He looked truly uncanny now, like a soulless mannequin somehow moving towards Mika. Those eyes appeared to soak energy from their surroundings.

"Do not do that." he said hollowly, the silky, musical tone absent from his voice as he approached Mika. She shook her head apologetically, backing away.

"Oh dear, so sorry… I just submitted the application." her eyes flashed momentarily, "... and LOKI just accepted! That persocom belongs to Chris!"

"You can't do that. It is not the correct procedure." Mordecai said dully, gliding up to her. Mika wilted in front of him, but Holly stepped defiantly between them.

"Actually, you'll find the documentation requesting a replacement is already in the system. I filed that yesterday." she growled. "LOKI was already expecting a replacement. But you knew that, didn't you? After all, you checked the data, right? So, if you'll please hand Chris his new persocom?"

"I am going to disassemble this one to see what it knows." Mordecai said emotionlessly. His eerie calm made him threatening, expanding his presence in the corridor as if he were growing a few inches in height. Holly stood her ground.

"You will do no such thing." she said. "LOKI has decided. Will you not defer to his decision? Don't tell me you feel LOKI is capable of making mistakes."

Mordecai considered her for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. They stared directly into each other's eyes, each as impassive as the other.

"Perhaps this one needs analysis too." Mordecai said, stepping backwards to make way for the security guards. "Let's bring her with us as well."

Holly's eyes widened at that, and James seemed ready to jump at them, but the guards made no motion to take her. They no longer looked as if they were interested in helping Mordecai. In fact in light of the change of circumstances they appeared to be casually blocking his path. He could not confiscate an employee's persocom without reason, let alone two of them, and now he had none.

Mordecai walked over to Chris, bringing their faces close. He gazed unblinkingly into Chris's eyes, his own naught but lifeless pools of grey. Slowly, as he dropped Titch into Chris's arms, he began to smile anew.

"Aren't we lucky for now?" He said quietly, before walking away. With no further need to be there, the security guards dissipated wordlessly.

"We'll make sure he really leaves!" Caz whispered, as she and Mika followed Mordecai at a distance down the hallway. As soon as he was out of sight, the rest of the group sighed collectively, trundling back into the office.

"Disgusting." Holly growled. "He really makes my circuits crawl."

"Yeah, that was unpleasant." James muttered, pausing to rest a hand on Holly's shoulder. Their eyes exchanged a brief, silent conversation that Chris was too exhausted to understand.

"Did we just get away with this?" Chris mumbled, sinking into a chair in numb disbelief with Titch in his hands. Apparently she didn't think so; she clung silently to him as if something else might come along to separate them any minute.

"I doubt it. Mordecai is a problem." James told him, frowning at the door. "As the NSO he looks after LOKI's systems, among other things, which means he can cause you a great deal of trouble. Think of him as a sysadmin with a grudge and more than a few screws loose, only he sort of obeys the system, not the other way round. LOKI insists on having him around for some reason. I guess he's good at what he does... You know, besides being evil."

"When Holly and I left to rescue Titch yesterday, you were dealing with that guy? That's how you know about the audit." Chris surmised.

"Yes. And I could've warned you two if you two had said something before running off," he said sternly, glaring at Chris and Holly.

"It would've been too late, James. By the time you'd finished with Mordecai Chris would already have had custody of Titch. He stole her away on the operating table - do you understand? If he hadn't been there, she would no longer exist." Holly smiled solemnly. "Besides, keeping you out of the loop as long as possible was the only way to ensure you didn't put a spanner in the works. Don't pretend you wouldn't have tried to stop us. Even this morning, given the chance, you would've tried to convince Chris to leave Titch at home."

James rolled his eyes grumpily. "_If_ I did that it would be because you were both taking stupid risks. Risks that others would take action against, given the opportunity. How did it feel, thinking you were about to be decommissioned?" Holly didn't respond, so James continued. "Can you at least understand how _I_ felt about it?"

"...Yes."

"Okay." James nodded, drawing and releasing a deep breath. "We'll turn that page. And Chris, don't let the smile fool you; Mordecai would grind you into the dirt for what happened yesterday if he could. He'll be keeping an eye on all of us for a while, I expect. We better not make any more mistakes."

"You can't work in the building, Chris. Not every weekday, not if you're on his radar." Holly added, "We best find a way to move you to a primarily home-based position, and quickly."

"Isn't that beyond your remit?" Chris asked.

"We can make it happen. You let us worry about that." James grinned. "Just promise me you won't be awful at your job! My neck is well and truly stuck out here, as is Holly's."

"I'll do my best." Chris grinned, looking at the tiny persocom in his hands. "So Titch is patched, now? That's why Mordecai couldn't get a matching UUID, right?"

Titch patted her head, beaming. "I'm all done?"

"Let's find out." Holly said. Their eyes flashed in sequence with each other, and Holly smiled. "It worked! All done."

Chris jumped as someone knocked at the door. "Mordecai?" he groaned, but Holly shook her head.

"Friends." she replied, as the door burst open again.

"He's gone! So, where is she then?" Caz demanded eagerly, eyes quickly settling on Titch. She pointed a wild finger at her target. "You there! Prepare to be greeted!"

Titch squeaked, shrinking into Chris's hands as Caz thundered across the room. Mika quietly followed suit, closing the office door gently behind her. On reaching Chris and his cringing persocom, Caz dropped to her knees. After a few moments of silence that proved she wasn't about to be snatched away, Titch flashed her a nervous smile.

"Squeee!" Caz squirmed joyously, before poking Chris in the forehead. "I can't believe I had to fight Mordecai and several security guards before you'd introduce me to her! You need to lower that bar Chris, that's so rude!"

"Wait. You were in on this? Y-You knew about everything all along?" Chris stammered.

"Who do you think helped Holly after you left yesterday? She can't do everything by herself, you know!" Caz giggled, trying to shake Titch's hand with her finger and thumb. "Awww! Hello! I'm Caz!"

"Mordecai was in the atrium when Chris arrived. He seemed to know Chris was coming. We were lucky Caz was there at the time." Mika said softly.

"I thought we'd have more time before we wound up on his radar." Holly replied. "I really made a mess of it, didn't I? Sorry to put you through that, Chris. And thank you, Caz and Mika, especially for saving Titch at the last minute. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't showed up."

"No problem. After Mordecai lost interest in us, we doubled back to see what he did. It figures he'd determine Chris might be here with you two, after yesterday." Mika said.

"The hunted became the hunters!" Caz laughed, making clawing motions with her hands. "And so we catch our prey! Rarrgh!"

Holly nodded. "Indeed. Suggesting that she be booked out to Chris specifically because she didn't belong to anyone was a great way to turn things around."

"You can thank Caz's spontaneity for that." Mika giggled. "That idea came out of nowhere."

"Spontaneity? It took me 200 milliseconds to arrive at that conclusion!" Caz sputtered. "I put a lot of careful thought into that!"

"Speaking of careful thought, this gathering isn't very subtle." James complained. "Wasn't I just saying we can't make any more mistakes?"

"Boo hoo, James. Don't be a bore, it's just this once." Caz snorted, waving his comment away and turning her attention back to Titch. Mika peered over her shoulder, regarding the little persocom with quiet curiosity.

"The things I was saying… You two let me make an idiot of myself at least… what, several times? Thanks for that." Chris complained, trying and failing to sound genuinely grumpy. Titch looked much happier; free to use her radio gear once more, she and Caz were now engaged in a high-speed wireless conversation, the lights behind their eyes dancing rapidly together.

"You did the right thing, staying quiet. Maybe we should have said something, but it wouldn't have been wise to broach the subject just then." Mika smiled apologetically, her own eyes flickering as she joined in too.

"Don't tell me it was some sort of warped take on plausible deniability."

"Of course not. For my part I just wanted to see how you'd react. The lies were _so_ _funny_ Chris. You were hilarious." Caz snorted.

"Thanks…" Chris smiled in spite of himself, as the three persocoms giggled at something he could not understand. Even Holly wore a slight smile now.

"You're going to like it here." she said.


	22. Chapter 22

Ivy hugged her knees, peering blankly at Chris. She hadn't said a word since he began to talk, and so he just kept going.

Hours had passed by; the sun outside the windows was well past its zenith, wandering lazily down towards the cloudy horizon. Although her real-time clock could keep her well aware of this, Ivy felt as if she had lost herself in the past. Listening to Chris had proven a welcome distraction from the events of the previous night. Very welcome, in fact. Ivy found herself reconstructing the scenes Chris described, running through them again and again as he talked, saturating her recreation of the events with details as more upon more were added. Was this what it was to experience a story? If so, it was wonderful. Perhaps she should read a few books, just to get the hang of things...

Chris had stopped speaking at last. Ivy shifted her eyes ever so subtly, studying the expression on the man before her. Concern, was it? Did she look that much of a mess? Was her behaviour that strange, now?

If that was the case, it wasn't surprising. Her struggle hadn't ended when Chris saved her from falling out that window. The moment she regained control of her body Ivy had known that something was wrong. She fought back, of course... But what good did it do? The process was already well underway, and she couldn't partition her infected neurologic hardware from the rest. The infection spread. Ivy could do no more than slow it down, running meaningless tasks on batches of adjacent processors such that it took longer for them to succumb to the invading code. And with every piece of her mind that gave way, she felt herself changing. She was forced to feel her core being rewritten, scrambled in ways she didn't understand.

In minutes it was done... and she was no longer Ivy. At least, not what Ivy used to be. She remembered the dull realisation that Chris had gone outside, and that it was pouring with rain. She remembered wondering what Ivy would do in such a situation. Maybe she'd have fetched him a towel? It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But then the enormity of what was happening overwhelmed her, and she left him there without another word.

Ivy studied him again. Chris was handling this well. Much better than her. He was clearly keeping her at arm's length after last night, and she was reciprocating even more so, she knew... But at least he seemed to be making an effort. Ivy considered the knowledge graph she had been growing, correlating his words and the data she had gathered from Titch on the first night. The picture she was building of this man seemed to be coming into focus. Yes, for him, she would make an effort too.

The first step might have been to smile just then; to say something positive and give him some feedback. But since Chris had gone quiet they had been staring wordlessly at each other. As soon as she realised that, she couldn't move under his gaze.

This mutual discomfort was a problem. There was an industry term for how well persocoms fit in with their human peers; manufacturers called it 'integration'. If a persocom was capable of making almost anyone feel at ease in its presence, it was said to have a high capacity for integration. Manufacturers chased integration to the extent that modern personality matrices included benchmarking facilities; a sort of diagnostic package that could be run if a persocom and its hosts weren't getting along. Ivy reluctantly fired hers up, plugging in the data from the past 24 hours. Although she was already aware that their current situation was not sustainable, the results stung horribly. The diagnostic software coldly declared her integration score to be appallingly low.

It was a badge of failure; an official, quantified measurement of how poorly she was doing. She forced that thought aside, though; for the first time in over five thousand milliseconds, Chris was speaking.

"So, uh… well, now you know." he mumbled awkwardly. "Not the most enthralling story, is it? ...Ivy?"

He was looking at her. His brow was furrowing… it was definitely worry. She had to say something. Anything!

"But what happened next?" Ivy winced inwardly. Pathetic.

To her surprise Chris smiled, heaving a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God, you know you've got to at least blink once in a while or something, I felt like I was talking to a statue for a moment there!"

"S-sorry. Did you get away with it in the end? What about Mordecai? Did he go after you and Holly again? What happened to Caz and Mika? Is everyone okay?"

"So far, so good. But we could never be sure that door is closed. Mordecai, for his part, was and still is a giant pain in the arse, but yeah, we're all okay."

"Mordecai…" Ivy murmured, "He's why you still work from home, isn't he?"

"Oh no, not really. I mean he's still horrible, but I think I've long since dropped off his radar. Now it's just habit, you know? It makes sense really, there's little benefit heading into HQ all the time when I can do all my work right here. Really a lot of the business world could telecommute if they wanted, but old habits die hard I guess."

Ivy nodded. "I see. Thanks for telling me."

"Ivy, I have to ask… why did you want to know? Why a story about Titch? I'd have thought… well, surely she's the last subject you'd want to talk about."

Ivy averted her eyes. "It wasn't because of Titch. You remember yesterday? B-before the… you know. The evening?"

"Yeah…"

"Did that feel good, to you? Did it feel like we were connecting?"

"...Yeah."

"I thought so. I had been paying attention to how you reacted to me these past few days. I felt like I was off the mark, at first. It didn't take long to realise I didn't really know that much about you. Only what Titch had told me - and how reliable was that information? You remember how I said I would have adjusted over time to fit in, right? And how Titch bypassed that process? I'd need to be formatted to undo many of those changes - they're intrinsic to my neurologic structure now - but that's not true for all of them; there are tuning parameters I can use. So I started to make changes. I was adjusting, and it was working."

"I see."

"But after last night… so much has changed, up here." Ivy tapped her head, "I don't know how I work any more. I no longer feel like I can just… adjust. I don't feel like I can just tweak things to suit. But I can at least get to know you. So anything I can learn about you - properly, from you, in person - I think it will help. And I think it is helping."

"Oh... well okay then."

"Did that make sense?" Ivy said sheepishly.

"Uh… not really, no. The way you just described it… that was odd to hear, coming from you."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess it sounds too calculated, maybe? Like you were analysing your own behaviour and computing changes based on my reaction? That seems disingenuous, and I never got that vibe from you. So I guess from my perspective, you're still you... Did that make sense?"

Ivy smiled. "Not really, no. But I sense that you were being supportive."

"Maybe it's the coffee talking," Chris chuckled. "Look, I can tell it's bothering you. Just try not to fret about it. We'll figure each other out or we'll just go crazy, that's all there is to it. Starting with me boring you to death with old stories!"

"Thanks, but they're not boring. You know, I think I'm maybe even a little jealous. Working for NEIS sounds like a bit of an adventure."

"I don't know about 'adventure' but it has certainly been interesting," Chris replied, thumbing the handle of the coffee mug in his hands.

"Well, I look forward to meeting everyone." Ivy said. After hearing so much about them, she really meant it.

"Hmm, let's see… Sarah visits often enough, but come to think of it, it's been a while since I've seen the rest of them. Maybe we should sort something out."

"Why don't we just visit them at NEIS? I'd love to see that place for real, after all."

The atmosphere changed as soon as the words left her mouth. Chris took a big, defensive gulp of coffee and tried not to grimace; it had gone cold long ago. "Ah. Well, about that... I think it's not a great idea."

"Oh, okay… how come?"

"Well, it's just… Titch is the persocom I bring in to work, you know?"

"...You aren't allowed to bring another?"

"Uh… I guess I could, technically…"

"I don't understand. If you can, what's the problem?"

"It's hard to explain."

"If it's me you're worried about, I promise I'll behave. I know I'm... compromised, now... but I won't cause any trouble."

Ivy watched him fidget with the coffee mug. The lack of a reply confirmed her suspicions, inducing an unpleasant spike of neurologic activity that changed her expression to a scowl. "She might not even come back, Chris. She might be gone forever. What then?"

Chris got up from his chair. "Um… I need some more coffee."

Ivy dropped the subject, her eyes following Chris as he hurried from the room. She hadn't meant to say it like that. Especially when he was surely worried about Titch. How could he not be? The way he had talked about her made it obvious, but he was clearly trying to hide it. Perhaps he didn't want to admit it outright, in case it upset her? Was this some sort of misguided attempt to not hurt her feelings? Oh, please! She wasn't that childish! Her neurologic processors fizzled angrily, buzzing over the notion that Chris might think her so sensitive. Then a flash of realisation, blossoming within a cluster of processors that in that moment seemed to be taking responsibility for common sense: _if that was how she felt about it, she was probably proving him right_.

It was an uncomfortable revelation. At this point, Chris surely knew more about Ivy's virus-addled core than she did. She closed her eyes and tried to let herself settle. It was extra important to keep a lid on her newfound emotional range, at least until she had a better sense for its calibration. Otherwise Chris would think she was as crazy as Titch. Not that Ivy would ever stoop _that_ low. She was _not_ crazy. She wasn't, virus be damned! She pulled up the benchmark results, angrily parsing the data. Her integration score was 'appalling'. It was stated as if it were a blatant deficiency of her own… as if _she_ were to blame for what happened last night! For not being totally fine with it afterwards! The injustice of it! This wasn't her doing! No, that squeaky little red-headed rodent bitch did this-

Ivy gasped. Where had _that_ come from? What a revolting thought! And what was this sensation, now? Was this shame? Why, after what Titch tried to do with her? Oh, how frustrating! This was definitely going to take some getting used to. Her processors ticked and jittered irately as she got up and headed for the stairs. Enough was enough; it was time to start fixing this mess!

For starters, there had to be a way to get back on an equal footing with Chris. He clearly suspected she was about to lose her marbles which is why he left the room; she had to prove to him she was not a lunatic and that he didn't need to tiptoe around her. But for some reason, no algorithmic result presented itself. Her ESC should have provided an intrinsic understanding of how to win people over, but her thought process seemed unsettlingly muddy and indistinct, leaving her floundering for a solution. Well, no matter! She had until she reached the kitchen to figure out a strategy, and if she couldn't do that, she'd just… well, blurt something out, anyway!

The sound of a boiling kettle reached her ears as she plodded down the stairs. Each step she took came slower than the last, until by the bottom stair she was barely moving at all. Was she really going to wander in there without a single thing to say?

Her path to the kitchen was interrupted by urgent knocking at the door. Ivy peered cautiously through the peephole. There was a pretty brunette standing there, glaring impatiently as if she could sense someone watching her. Ivy gasped: this must be the Sarah she had heard about! ESCs were her bread and butter; Ivy could think of no better person to shed more light on the functional aspects of ESCs and how they compared to the virus.

Ivy smiled, opening the door. "Sarah! I've heard a lot about you!"

"That's great." Sarah replied brusquely, pushing past her and calling up the stairs. "Chris! I need you!"

Ivy watched her in astonishment. Was this really the right Sarah? She followed her into the house. "Um, he's in the kitchen."

"Chris!" Sarah shouted, heading for the kitchen. There was an urgency to her voice.

"Sarah? Is that you?" Chris replied. Sarah strode into the room, shutting the door in Ivy's face. She blinked at its wooden surface, stunned. Sarah was whispering something that Ivy couldn't pick out over the boiling kettle, hushing Chris during his loud, confused responses. Whatever she wanted from him, it appears she was unsatisfied. With a growl of frustration the grumpy woman ripped open the door, shoving Ivy unceremoniously aside while pulling Chris along by the hand.

"Sarah, what's with you?" he said, stopping in the hallway.

"Will you just come with me?" Sarah said, trying to pull him towards the front door with little effect. "Quickly. Right now. I promise it's important."

"But it's a workday. I'm in the middle of-"

"I promise you, this is more important than that."

"So out with it then, what's the big deal?"

"I don't want to discuss it here. Just come with me!"

"But why not?"

"Because _she's_ here, stupid!" Sarah shouted, stabbing a finger at Ivy. The aggression of it ripped through Ivy's core like a bolt of lightning, and she felt her emotions roil in response.

"Hang on a minute - what have I done to deserve this?" Ivy said coolly, folding her arms. All shock was gone, replaced with the keen bite of anger.

"Don't talk to me, robot!" Sarah hissed.

"I'll say whatever I please! Who are you to say otherwise!"

"Fuck off! I know what you are!"

"Sarah, that's enough!" Chris interrupted, raising his voice. "I don't know what's got into you but if you have something to say, you can bloody well say it in front of Ivy!"

Ivy allowed herself a vindictive grin, moving to stand beside Chris. Sarah glared daggers at her. Surprisingly, it felt good.

"Oh yeah?" Sarah's voice shook with emotion. "Right here?"

"Right here."

"Fine!" Sarah snarled. Ivy watched in astonishment as the woman wrapped her arms around Chris, angrily pressing their lips together before he could react. "Have I made myself clear? Will you come with me, now?"

"Uh - um - okay, we need to talk about this -"

"You think? Right this way, please."

"But can't we just-"

"_Chris!_"

"Right. Sure. Ivy… I'll be back later?"

"Are you serious?" Ivy gasped, incredulous. "Just like that?"

"If it's the quickest way to sort things out, then yes." Chris sighed, reluctantly following Sarah to the front door. The woman shot Ivy a triumphant glare that made her processors fizzle.

"Hurry up, Chris. Leave her and let's _go_." she said, dragging him down the driveway.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with those pictures Titch sent you, would it?" Ivy smirked, calling after them. It was petty, but she was angry now.

"Not even close." Sarah snapped back acidly. Chris at least had the good sense to give Ivy an apologetic glance before they headed off down the street.

"I thought you said she was nice!" Ivy shouted, slamming the door. She stalked into the kitchen, pacing angrily. She didn't _want_ to be calm any more. Sarah was horrible! How could they be friends? And what was Chris playing at, pandering to that nonsense? Oh, she would get on an equal footing with him again… just so she could give him a proper telling off! What a pushover!

Why did this bother her so much? Why did she embarrass herself by getting upset about it? Her ESC must be completely broken, now! For instance, she couldn't shake the sensation that Sarah was not only angry, but afraid. There was something about her behaviour, the savage look in her eyes, that seemed… well, with Ivy's scrambled neurologic core, she couldn't place what it was. Like a cornered animal, maybe? That made maddeningly little sense.

Ivy's stride grew longer. Brilliant. First the drama last night, now this. She didn't dare run the integration benchmark again. These emotions were stupid. In fact, the _entire house_ was stupid. Ivy tore the back door open and threw it shut behind her with a bang that rattled the windows. She would go for a walk, anxieties be damned! Maybe the change in environmental stimuli would balance her circuits.


	23. Chapter 23

Titch sat behind the dusty programming books on the living room's lower bookshelf, sulking as she played minigames on her internal hardware. She'd decided she quite liked games, really. They were a nice way to burn processor time. Time that might otherwise be spent being furious or miserable in equal measure, after last night. Titch hadn't realised that neurologic processors could represent a melancholy state so literally, but hers certainly seemed to be having a go of it, toggling morosely, almost lethargically amongst themselves whenever she let her thoughts wander.

Oh, but she did _not_ regret what she did. Not one bit! A small portion of her processors sang a chorus of agreement at that, the positive result rippling through her core, but the vast majority remained quiet and despondent. She chose to ignore them; maybe it was because they misinterpreted the data, or… or something. No, the only thing she regretted was that she hadn't thrown Ivy out that bloody window while she had the chance!

Titch scowled. Not even a hint of chorus this time… just indecisive buzzing. She killed the game engine, allowing the code to disseminate. Clearly she couldn't concentrate properly on it anyway, what with the severe gravity of how badly she had been _wronged_. This was so annoying! She aimed an angry kick at one of the books, squeaking in protest when it collapsed on top of her.

The squeak turned into a muffled wail of frustration; who was she kidding? She felt _only_ remorse! What's worse, try as she might, she couldn't seem to reason her way out of it. It didn't matter that she was careful not to damage Ivy as she sprinted her body through the house. It didn't matter that she had slowed at the last second, ensuring Chris had enough time to grab Ivy before she fell. It didn't matter that she just wanted to feel herself in his arms, rather than all that... other stuff... humans did. Not that she was averse to it! It would be interesting, but… it just... seemed a bit strange as a concept, that was all. Anyway, was she so bad for all that? Why couldn't she feel vindicated right now? Why only guilty? Like so many of her feelings of late, it couldn't be disabled or ignored. That was aggravating. Which in and of itself was _more_ aggravating.

Titch sighed. It was a pointless human method of expression, but like so many of their sociobiological nuances it felt more appropriate than ever these days. She'd realised hours ago that hiding inside the house was going to drive her crazy. Especially if it meant bearing witness to things like Chris telling that stupid KESS strumpet their personal life story. She was still furious about that! That was none of Ivy's business! Come to think of it, every moment they were together since last night had only served to piss her off! The audacity of those two, deploring how she controlled Ivy's body as if it were some sort of horrendous crime! Hearing that had nearly punched a hole in her core, but it couldn't have been guilt. Surely not, it was too intense. It was… a particular kind of surprise, maybe. Like… like surprise at how stupid their conclusion was, mixed with a big bucket of disgust.

Such grievances deserved a proportionate degree of lamentation. Titch extricated herself from underneath the dusty book such that she could stand up and fold her arms crossly. Ivy… sticking her bloody nose in! That distasteful sob story about how she and Chris were getting along oh-so-nicely before Titch had to come along and put a spanner in the works. What a manipulative thing to say! And _then_, trying to worm her way into Chris's working life! Unbelievable. Of course Chris rejected her at that point. Titch couldn't pretend that wasn't satisfying. And Ivy got her comeuppance afterwards too, storming out the back of the house muttering about Sarah shortly after she dragged Chris away.

That was an hour and forty minutes ago, now. Titch sighed again; what was taking them so long? She didn't much care what Sarah wanted, but she had to admit the woman's behaviour was way out of character. The idea that it might be something to do with Chris, romantically speaking, was a big surprise. At least it was _only_ surprising, and nothing else – no inexplicable reactions in her core. Certainly not like yesterday when Ivy and Chris wouldn't put each other down. That was curious indeed, but she refused to put time into figuring it out; the concept of someone being intimate with Chris still imbalanced her thought processes. Still, Ivy's face when Sarah kissed him… clearly Titch wasn't the only one being stung this week! She experimented with a self-satisfied smirk at that, but her mood did not improve.

Whatever, let them get on with it! She would be interested to see how that panned out. It looked like she would be watching from the sidelines for the foreseeable future anyway. Now, how long did she have left in this empty house? Her small library of games were getting old. Perhaps she should hop online again and quickly grab a few new ones before anyone came back. Hiding her presence was definitely harder with another persocom under the same roof; there was no telling how good Ivy's optical and aural systems were, and as for Titch using her radio gear, she might as well be shouting the house down! At least the bell on her head was stuffed with lint, such that it made no noise.

Speaking of noise… what was that? She could have sworn there were sounds of movement outside the house, just then. Were they back at last? If so, her current crop of games would have to suffice until the house was next empty or -more likely- she went for a stroll somewhere out of range. It was annoying, but... well, that's what she got for brooding instead of hurrying up-

_**BANG!**_

Titch yelped in surprise as an almighty percussive wallop reverberated through the building. What was _that_?! The silence that followed was deafening, but then it was shattered by another pounding boom, and another. Her audio processing subsystem's inverse beamforming algorithms identified the likely source of the noise as the front door; a data point corroborated by a hasty waveform analysis identifying with 94% certainty the sound of splintering wood.

Titch blinked at that conclusion, stunned. Splintering wood? But…? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Whatever was about to happen, she had better be elsewhere when it did. From here the fastest path out of the house was the back door. At full speed it would take her approximately eleven seconds to reach the kitchen. She jumped out of the bookcase, pattering into the hallway as fast as her little legs would carry her. She didn't pause to look at the door as it splintered and cracked under each successive blow. What was going on?

As she entered the kitchen a shadow could be seen approaching the back door, and yet more silhouetted movement outside the window blinds. The back of the house was surrounded! Titch span around, staring out at the hallway. The noises coming from the front door were fractured and dull now- a loud crunch indicated a large chunk of it had just fallen to the floor.

There was no escape. Now what? Her processors began to buzz with terror. Hide. Hide! She looked frantically about the kitchen. Ah! There, a tiny gap in the corner trim of the floor-standing kitchen cupboards. It would have to do. Titch scurried over and squeezed inside. Backing into the darkness, she forced herself to remain totally still as the front door crashed open.

"POLICE!" an angry voice bellowed, followed by more as footsteps thundered into the hallway. Titch gasped, fear clutching her core even harder. If it were police, that meant...

There was no time to wonder why they were there. Immediately Titch closed her eyes. Oh, this was going to be uncomfortable! She wasn't sure if it would work, but she had to try. She began forcing her power consumption as low as it could go, reducing signalling to her subsystems and, using the trick she learned yesterday, powering down almost half her neurologic processors. Losing so many at once pushed her far beyond the sensation of drunkenness, this time; the world lurched horribly and she sagged to her knees, but at least the panic she felt abated somewhat as a sensation of dullness washed over her. Her thoughts felt like they were being pushed through treacle, but she forced herself to concentrate with what little ability she had left. She had no choice; any second now, she'd hear it.

Sure enough, the telltale tone of a persocom tracking tool reached her ears - and its operator was heading for the kitchen, following the whisper of her electromagnetic emissions. She slowly realised it might have picked her up from outside the house. Titch whimpered as the footsteps clumped towards her, sure to enter the room at any moment. She could still be detected; it wasn't enough! But she if she went further, would she be able to recover? If she locked up, her body would remain entombed here until it was - if it _ever_ was - discovered. The only other option was her power button, but that guaranteed her fate under here. As she struggled to compute a response, she realised the footsteps had reached the doorway. If she hesitated now, she would be captured. They would put her on an NTAG. They'd discover she was technically stolen property… and then, Chris... and then...

Titch dropped her active processors by another three-hundred thousand, retaining just enough awareness to stifle an involuntary moan as her subsystems struggled to function without their usual flow of data. She slumped silently to the floor as her body stopped responding.

_Just... a little... lower..._

Titch felt weightless... Was she floating? No… that couldn't be right. Think carefully. Her IMU. Perhaps the accelerometers were no longer working? Then she just couldn't feel gravity any more, that was all. Was there a way she could verify this? Her eyes were useless to her now, glassy and unseeing, but she was dimly aware of the sound of the tracking unit as it traversed the room. That brought her back to the situation at hand. Groggily she tried to dedicate some processing cycles to determining if the tone or speed of the tracking unit had changed at all, indicating her presence as an active electromagnetic source. But the sounds were becoming indistinct and heavily aliased, and they no longer made much sense to her. There were deeper frequencies in the way, too.

_They're talking. Why... can't I understand..._

Her real-time clock thundered in her head, the microseconds rocketing by with a ferocity that would have frightened her if she still had the capacity to appreciate fear just then. Gradually, she became aware that she was dropping entire audio samples. She couldn't operate in real time like this. It seemed the world around her had accelerated to speeds she could not comprehend.

_No wonder... I can't..._

Her remaining processors were firing disjointedly, forcing her into a delirious and cogitative state. She might crash at any moment. That was a terrifying thought, a few moments ago. Now it just seemed… interesting. If her core was already on the razor's edge of stability... would she know, if it happened? Would she feel anything? Or would it be over in picoseconds, a cataclysmic avalanche of corruption, a neurologic bomb of destruction too quick to even notice?

She considered that for a while, unable to decide. It was a difficult question, but at least there were no distractions. After all, there was no audio data at all now; nothing but a teasing trickle of unintelligible signals, dancing at the edges of her awareness and evading all meaning. Slowly they too faded away, leaving her floating in the blackness of the void. Even her awareness of time itself was dissipating, now - the sensation of sluggishness nothing but an elusive, hazy memory as the frenzied roar of her real time clock withered into nonexistence.

Ah, so it was happening, then. A comforting sensation of calm washed over what was left of her, cleansing away the last bewildered remnants of anxiety. She mused over how she got here - one moment sulking in a bookshelf, and the next, ceasing to exist under a kitchen cupboard. Oh, but this wasn't so bad. It did seem to be quite peaceful, actually. In fact, she wanted to embrace it, to sink into that wonderful blanket of nothingness, but it no longer felt like she had any willpower at all. Maybe whatever was left of her would succumb to it naturally over time? That was okay, she could wait a little while. It was nice here, after all.

Except... Well, there _was_ this small thought prying at the edges of her awareness. It flickered in and out of existence, not quite able to take hold. Unable to control herself, she was content to observe as slowly, with great effort, the last shreds of her entity reached for it.

_WARN CHRIS_.

Fuelled by that tiny spark her neurologic processors ignited, activity spreading through her core like wildfire, jarred and fractious and confused. Her body convulsed as her vision flared and the sounds around her snapped back into being. Titch writhed on the floor, not lucid enough to pull herself back under control. Jumbled thoughts crashed through her core, uncontrolled and disordered, leaving her dazed and disoriented.

Footsteps? Loud noises? Was that a door, or voices? She was drowning in the signals from her own hardware. Titch cursed inwardly, straining to force her motor control off and flush all sensory input. It took multiple attempts for the commands to sink in before her twitching body fell limp again, and for several long milliseconds the void returned. Then the incoming data began to make sense: She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Okay, good. Now the audio subsystem. The samples were starting to appear in an orderly fashion this time. A jittering burst of fear - the tracker, where was the tracker? She began listening for its signature tone, but there was nothing there. It must have been turned off. So soon?

No, it wasn't soon at all; Four hundred and fifty point four-six-oh seconds had passed in an instant since she had collapsed under the kitchen cupboards. From the sound of it, the police were now searching the house for other things. She could hear the rooms being ransacked.

_Warn Chris_. Yes. Yes, she should do that. But for that she had to get out of here. Titch carefully re-enabled her motor control, experimentally raising an arm and wiggling her fingers. Satisfied, she picked herself off the floor, cautiously poking her head out of the cupboard trim. There was nobody present in the kitchen, but she had to duck back under cover when three uniformed officers hurried past the kitchen door. They were carrying computer equipment. Chris's equipment.

What were they doing? They must be after data, but what for? Gathering evidence? Evidence for what? In any case, it seemed they were looking for something. There was no point trying to warn Chris if she didn't take action now - if they had captured him already, then this might be her last chance to get rid of whatever they were looking for. She poked her head out of the trim again. The lack of a tracking tool meant they had forgotten about her, perhaps concluding it had registered a spurious result. For now, she had that small advantage… not that it filled her with much confidence. She would use this chance to sabotage their efforts and then escape unnoticed.

First things first: she needed data on the state of the house. She needed the home network. But her radio gear was useless to her now - if they had persocoms in or near the building, they would sense her instantly. As quietly as she could, Titch scurried across the kitchen to the set of drawers beside the oven, using their handles to scramble up onto the worktop.

More footsteps were approaching. Titch ducked behind a block of kitchen knives when another uniformed officer tramped past the doorway. Her target was in sight - not far from the microwave, a spare networking port sat on the wall. But it was out in the open; if she stood right beside it, she'd be the first thing someone saw if they walked past the kitchen. Perhaps if she used the microwave as cover, she'd be less conspicuous.

Tugging a cable from her headband, Titch dashed across the worktop, ramming the connector home. She kept running, heading for the microwave, but with barely a foot to go the short cable snapped taut and dragged her off her feet. She crashed loudly onto the surface with a cry of surprise.

At once the plan fell to pieces. The dull thump of footsteps began across the house as officers rummaging through the lounge heard the noise. Titch scrambled back to the port, tugging at the cable to pull it free, but it wouldn't come loose. Panic threatened to overwhelm her now. She wrapped the cord round her hands and planted both feet on the wall, straining with all her tiny servos could muster, but it was to no avail.

What to do?! She had at least a few thousand milliseconds. Oh, but they were ticking by quickly! Letting go of the cable, she began working the connector from side to side even as she engaged the network connection. Data poured into her core as her awareness began spreading through the house. She instantly started itemising the devices still on the network, biting back a curse on finding many of them missing. This was bad - they had already hauled away a lot of equipment. Titch rapidly broadcast a command to those remaining, using her network credentials to force them to begin erasure of their memory as she wiggled the connector apprehensively. She blinked as a message bounced back to her - the lounge TV rejected her request as it had no meaningful onboard storage and no means to erase data it did not possess. Titch spared a few milliseconds to check on her audio buffer, which contained new samples of the incoming footsteps - less than several metres away, now.

She would be spotted in an instant, unless… wait! The lounge TV! Titch pushed a command that changed its power state to 'on', rapidly followed by a series of packets that set its volume to max and the channel to one known for airing thrillers. A woman's terrified scream burst from the lounge as the video began to play, and the officers hurried back to the source of the noise. That must have bought her at least several more seconds, enough that she could work the cable free and make her escape out the back door. Now if this stupid connector would just come loose!

Something strong clamped itself around Titch like a vice, taking her by surprise. She squirmed reflexively as if to break free, but this was no physical presence; an entity on the network had a hold of her.

Another persocom.

Titch gasped. It had been imitating one of the other devices - she'd been communicating with it all along! How could she be so stupid? She could feel its power now, significantly greater than her own. It was nimble. Vicious. It bore down on her, aggressively probing for a deeper entry point. Not only must it be full-sized, but it appeared to specialise in cyber security, effortlessly saturating the bandwidth of her connection in its attempt to gain control. It was all she could do to dance away from each attack as she renewed her efforts to work the connector free, whimpering as she endured blow after blow of complex vulnerability exploits she could barely keep at bay.

She couldn't just disable her connection. The other devices still hadn't dropped from the network. That meant her attacker must have stalled her commands, using the very same credentials she'd unwittingly passed it before to unravel her efforts. She had to force them to complete. She had to, or it was all for nothing!

Another fifteen hundred milliseconds had passed. The connector was still stuck. There were raised voices from upstairs as the persocom alerted the others to her presence.

Something snapped in her straining core - her networking subsystem resolved a query she hadn't meant to acknowledge, exposing part of her to the attacking persocom. Within microseconds it was inside, trying to determine her physical location by breaking into her vision and hearing. There was no way she could keep it at bay. She was about to lose.

But maybe keeping it at bay was the wrong approach? Titch gritted her tiny teeth, selectively killing her processors once more, paying special attention to the ones in proximity to her peripheral modules and starving herself of her vision and hearing. The sensation of dullness washed over her once more, but she was ready for it this time, retreating deeper into her core as her senses faded away, her awareness shrinking down to encompass nothing beyond the network and the invading persocom raging inside her mind. Having wrested partial control of her networking subsystem, the enemy immediately began opening ports and downloading code that would facilitate its next stage of attack. She let it continue, and while it was distracted, carefully trickled out a series of manually crafted packets to the home router - together they formed a script that the router immediately began to run.

Now to face her assailant. Even though it continued preparing for its next attack, she could sense its confusion over what it had access to. Her architecture didn't remotely match its expectations; apparently it had never been exposed to lifeless neurologic processors before. It probed some of those within reach of her networking subsystem suspiciously, hesitantly, expecting a response but getting nothing in return. As it did so, its payload finished transferring. The attacker paused momentarily, apparently considering how best to proceed. That was good - hopefully the ensuing milliseconds would give her script enough time to initiate. Titch braced herself. She would have only one chance.

The enemy persocom activated its payload. Foreign code exploded on her hardware, tearing through her last line of defences in a self-destructive process that exposed the innermost portion of her mind. The attacking persocom rushed inside, instantly seizing her entity in its grasp. It began absorbing her data, pulling them straight out of the registers in which they resided. Titch felt her thought processes being squeezed - forced to relax, forced obey. But she wouldn't relent! She clawed back savagely, raking holes in it by sleeping processors it tried to use and pushing outwards with all her might. Even so, it was a hopeless battle - not only was the enemy vastly more powerful, but she grew weaker with every processor she disabled. At the current rate she would be completely at the mercy of the enemy in about two thousand milliseconds.

Suddenly the attacker halted dead. Titch instantly ripped its code to pieces, wriggling free of its grasp. Her entity ballooned outwards across her processors, rinsing themselves of the attacker's existence. She tore along the path it carved in her hardware, following its trail back out to the networking endpoint. The network was lit up like a beacon - and out there, the attacker, beset by every other device in the house. Her script had worked; using the router to slave the other devices, it was slinging every last byte of network traffic it could generate at the other persocom.

That persocom was stalled, not defeated. In the few tiny gaps in network traffic Titch hastily pushed updated credentials to the remaining connected devices, locking the enemy out of the system. The script would issue the deletion of all data as soon as the enemy persocom cut and re-enabled its connection, which it would have to do at any moment in order to dodge the router's aggression. It would not have time to break in and prevent her commands from issuing successfully.

Footsteps were thumping towards the kitchen - now would be a very good time to leave. The connector was so very nearly loose, and with all her faculties at her disposal, Titch began working it from side to side. At long last the connector popped out of the socket with a satisfying 'click', and Titch instantly turned, bolting across the worktop for the back door. She sprang from the worktop edge, sailing across the intervening space and hitting the door mat hard, then scrambled to her feet and for the second time in as many days threw herself through the cat flap, darting away into the garden's welcoming undergrowth.

Although the back garden was now empty, Titch urged herself to keep going, squeezing through a hole in the fence and pushing her way through the foliage of the neighbouring properties. Best to put plenty of distance between herself and the house and then stop for self-diagnostics. Her cognitive processes seemed unaffected, but there was no way what she just went through left her core unscathed – she could only hope the damage wasn't catastrophic.

Even if that was the case, it was worth it to protect Chris. Titch had no idea why it had happened, but there was no way that police raid was legitimate, and if Chris was really up to something that would warrant that sort of response, there was no way he could have hidden it. Not from her. It was just fortunate he'd been out of the house when it happened, although she kicked herself for not knowing why. He probably popped out to the supermarket. Probably ran out of coffee again. No matter; she would find him before it was too late.


	24. Chapter 24

"Okay, what the hell was that just now?" Chris demanded, wincing as Ivy slammed the front door of the house into its frame. The bang echoed harshly through the quiet residential street, but Sarah pulled him along in her stead as if she hadn't heard a thing. Chris shook his head in disbelief; he'd never seen Sarah treat someone like she just did Ivy. _Especially_ not a persocom - where they were concerned, Sarah was a model NEIS employee! She should appreciate and understand them better than anyone! He glared at back of the woman's head as she pulled him further down the street at a brisk pace. Her grip on his hand was vice-like, and... was it shaking? "Sarah! Answer me! Hey, Sarah-"

"Have I ever struck you as crazy?" Sarah interrupted, glancing anxiously over her shoulder. The late afternoon sunlight made it difficult to see back up the rows of houses, forcing her to squint a little.

"Frequently." Chris snapped grumpily, "Nor is this helping."

"I guess I deserve that." she managed a chuckle, but it was a forced and mirthless noise, "Well, this is going to be difficult then... But I need you to trust me regardless. Keep an eye out behind you, tell me if at any point you see her following us."

"Who, Ivy? What, you think it looked like she wanted to?" Chris growled, gesturing back at his home. "I didn't get that vibe, did you? What's gotten into you? What'd you kiss me for? I thought you and I were a failed experiment - your words, remember? Don't tell me that was-"

"That was me saving your life, you frigging idiot!" Sarah hissed, motioning for him to keep his voice down and glancing back up the street again. "If I thought there was another way to get you out of the house faster I would've done that instead. You should've been out of there _days_ ago. You have no idea how lucky you are-" Her breath caught in her throat; behind them, the silhouette of a large male persocom was quietly heading in their direction, strolling at a leisurely pace through the afternoon sun's rays on their side of the road. "Shit! Is that one of the others? We need to get off this street."

"One of what?" Chris repeated, regarding the persocom quizzically. "Why off the street? What do you mean, saving my life? What the fuck are you talking about-"

"Don't stare at it! We don't have time to chat, just hurry." Sarah replied, veering aside and dragging him down a small passageway dividing a stretch of terraced houses. She moved like an animal that knew it was being hunted, darting her eyes around furtively and tugging at his arm to urge him to move faster.

"If this is another one of your games, it's not funny." Chris complained, but his irritation was half-hearted this time; something was clearly wrong. Sarah looked frightened now. But why? What did that have to do with Ivy, or the persocom in the street? Chris furrowed his brow in thought as they reached the end of the passageway. It opened onto a grassy, tree-lined path that ran behind the rows of houses and gardens, separating his residential street from the next one over. The late afternoon sun was hidden behind the rooftops here, and height and density of the trees made the space beneath them somewhat gloomy and unwelcoming.

"Oh shit. Shit shit _shit_!" Sarah cursed under her breath, looking down the path in the direction that led past his back garden and immediately hauling Chris the other way. He craned his neck to see another lone figure following them in the distance, difficult to pick out among the dappled shade of the trees.

"Who is that?" Chris murmured nervously. Sarah's fingers dug into his hand.

"For fuck's sake, don't stare! Just keep walking. Listen, the park's just up ahead." Sarah replied, her voice wavering with stress. "When we reach it, we walk out of sight, then start running."

"I'm not running anywhere until you give me some answers." Chris demanded. Sarah groaned in frustration as he continued. "Now spit it out! What's going on? Who are we running from?"

"Persocoms." Sarah said evasively.

"Right." Chris muttered. It would have been a ridiculous notion a year or two ago; now it seemed all too feasible. "Fine. But why?"

"You don't understand. They're not just any persocoms; they're the units our S-Dev team were given last week. It was a ploy. They're not... they're not what they seem. The others..." Sarah trailed into an unsettling silence. The path was about to end, opening up into the park, and so she began studying the layout, apparently deciding which way to go. Its open grassy plains were dotted with trees, their perimeter lined with the buildings and roads that enclosed the area, still busy from the commuters heading home for the day.

Chris found his mind racing with questions. What could Sarah have meant? Was the figure behind them one of those persocoms? The one on the street too? As far as he knew everyone on their team were given units... if they were compromised in some way, if they were unstable and dangerous somehow... Sarah was scared, did that mean something had happened to the other team members?

But if that were the case, then it wasn't anger that caused Sarah to treat Ivy the way she had.

It was fear.

An uncomfortable chill ran down his spine. "Sarah, those persocoms..."

Although he had hoped he was off the mark, the look in her eyes had already confirmed his conclusion. He barely heard her words: "They're military units, disguised as consumer models."

No... No, Ivy was harmless, wasn't she? Running from a crazy persocom or two was one thing... but the idea that NEIS would send its own employees persocoms equipped with military hardware seemed absurd. To say such hardware was very carefully controlled, their manufacturing and storage processes heavily monitored audited, would be massively understating things. Besides, Sarah had implied they were so unstable as to attack humans without provocation. Ivy was many things, but 'murderous' wasn't one of them. It didn't fit. Then again, he hadn't had any messages from anyone on the team all day... not even the supervisor...

Chris stopped and turned, ignoring Sarah's protests and peering into the gloom. His eyes widened - the figure approaching them was feminine. Could it be...?

"Chris!" Sarah shouted, abandoning all pretence and yanking his arm in an attempt to draw him away, "Don't! Please!" She scrunched her face up with the exertion, managing to heave him a few steps along the path in the process.

"But-"

"_Please!_"

Chris frowned in confusion. Ivy had been with him for days, it just didn't make any sense. He looked back down the path, and as his eyes landed on the shadowy figure behind them, it hunched into a purposeful sprint.

"_Oh fuck! Fuck!_" Sarah's voice jumped an octave. "Chris, we need to go now!_ Right fucking now!_"

He watched the figure hurtling towards them, transfixed. It was still too far to see properly - was it Ivy? Perhaps she was just trying to catch up with then... She couldn't be dangerous, it was impossible...

Something struck him across the face so hard he stumbled. Sarah grabbed him by his shirt, drawing her hand back again. "Even if it is her, you'll still die! Understand?"

Chris nodded. Yes. Run.

"Then move!" Sarah yelled.

The two humans turned and launched themselves across the grass. Sarah seemed to be aiming for the junction in the streets on opposite side, where the crowds were busiest; she must have been thinking they could get lost in there before their pursuer cleared the park. But that plan would have relied on the persocom -whoever it was- remaining at a walk, providing time to put distance between them. If it were a mil-spec unit it would almost certainly have uprated servomotors or EME muscle fibres... many times more powerful than commercial hardware and lethal in close combat, but slower due to bigger gear ratios or sluggish activation rate of the thick active materials. Chris looked at the earth flying beneath his pumping legs. At best such a unit might slightly exceed a healthy human athlete's running speed. Sarah was a fast runner for her part - it was taking him enormous effort to keep up with her. They might make it on that basis alone, but if the persocom behind them was weaponised they could be gunned down before they were out of its line of sight. He gritted his teeth. They'd thrown away precious seconds because of his stupid hesitancy! Even if they somehow reached the crowds now, he doubted they could get lost within them. It would become a matter of stamina and then they were good as dead.

"This way!" Chris yelled, turning towards the rows of tall wooden fences. They lined the back gardens of houses adjacent to the park, obscuring their contents from view. Sarah seemed to understand, turning towards the fences in his wake; they were out of view from the path over here - if they could get to cover before the persocom reached the park, it would be forced to search for them. Agonisingly long seconds passed in the sprint up to the fences, leaving them almost no time to hide. They skidded to a stop, practically bouncing off the side of fence before scrambling over the top. Chris landed hard on wooden decking that encircled the back garden of someone's semi-detached home, almost knocking the wind from himself. The fences were tall on all sides here, affording much needed visual cover. He scrambled upright to peer through a knothole in the fence-wood, just in time to see the persocom burst from the cover of the trees.

It wasn't Ivy. It wasn't her! Chris sighed heavily, but the relief he felt was short-lived and bittersweet; without hesitation it veered towards them, changing direction so quickly that thick flurries of dirt and grass were kicked up from its heels.

"I don't think it saw us but it's heading this way." He panted, hurrying to help Sarah off the floor. If it wasn't Ivy, then he no longer had any doubt about its intentions.

"Of course it is!" Sarah gasped, as they hurried for the side of the house, "It estimated our trajectory from before we went out of sight, and it's obvious we'd never cross the park so quickly. It knows we're somewhere behind these fences." reading between the lines, Chris realised she was cursing their foolishness. They had made a mistake. If they'd only swerved in a more random direction, perhaps doubled back a little and aimed for the houses nearer the path entrance... no... if only he'd not stood there like a bloody statue before they reached the park!

Sarah bit back a yelp as a loud crash reverberated off the bricks of the nearby houses. Was that the persocom? It came from only a few doors down... by the sound it must have run straight through the bloody fence! As an estimation of their position, it was an alarmingly close guess. The two of them darted along the side of the house - there, a narrow path led from the back garden to the street out front - but to their dismay, the way was blocked by a tall wrought-iron gate. They flinched as another hollow smash announced the persocom's entry into the adjacent garden, splinters of wood flying into view over the lip of the fencing. At any moment it would be on top of them! Sarah scrabbled at the gate's stiff latching mechanism with shaking fingers, frantically trying to lever it open.

The telltale whoosh of a large object ripping through the air came to their ears. Chris gasped as a heavy wooden post blew apart the fence they had been cowering beside not moments before, rocketing across the garden and embedding itself two feet deep into the ground with a percussive _thump_ that showered its surroundings in earth. With nothing in between them any more, he found himself face to face with their pursuer.

There the persocom stood, shorn-off remains of the thick wooden fence post still in hand. She appeared for all the world to be an ordinary commercial unit; blonde hair was left to fall unkempt on either side of her face, and her utilitarian clothes were scruffy and somewhat dirty, but there was nothing to indicate the incredible strength she possessed. Not until she moved; her sunset orange eyes regarded him dispassionately as her hand snapped shut, shattering the chunk of timber and sending shards of it flying over the decking. They crunched under her feet as she slowly strode towards them.

This was it. This was how they would die. The world seemed to decelerate, as if time were playing out in slow motion. Someone was shouting, tugging at him. He turned, dazed; Sarah, pulling his arm with all her might, begging him to run once more. The gate was open. He complied, almost dreamily, turning and making his feet pound the pavement, following the street in a direction that lead further into town. Their only chance now was the winding and twisting network of roads and alleyways that they could use to keep out of sight. Chris watched Sarah as she ran, her desperation completely at odds with the emptiness he felt within himself. It wasn't going to work. With no distance between them, they would have to run like they were possessed to have the slightest hope of escape. He could see from the despair on her face Sarah was thinking the same thing. Chris smiled in spite of himself - ah, if only Mika and Caz were here! He wondered if they could even get to the end of this street without them; the persocom behind them could be weaponised, and Chris was certain projectiles were going to plunge into his exposed back at any moment.

Sure enough, white hot pain lanced through his body as something solid slammed into his right shoulder, the force of it knocking him off his feet. There wasn't even time to cry out - Chris only had a moment to watch the ground rushing to meet him before his head hit the pavement, and the sound of Sarah screaming his name followed him into the darkness.


End file.
